The Inheritance
by enigste1
Summary: An answer to a fanfic challenge.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This fic is in response to a challenge. I trust the challenger will let me know what she thinks of it?

Chapter 1:

Professor Charles Eppes bounded through the front door of his Craftsman home calling, "Dad! You here?" Without waiting for a reply, he swung the door shut, dropped his book bag on the floor in the corner and started up the stairs two at a time.

His father, Alan Eppes, came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. Shaking his head at his youngest son's explosive entrance, he called back, "I was in the kitchen, Charlie." He made his way to the foot of the stairs and leaned on the banister. "What's up?" he asked.

The young mathematician came back down in the same manner he had ascended – at a run. "Don's gonna be here any minute. Have you seen my navy tie?" He was trying unsuccessfully to tuck his shirttails into a pair of neatly pressed suit pants – a feat hampered by the fact that he was still moving at top speed.

"Slow down! What's your hurry?" Alan put one hand on his hip as he watched his son rake the curls back from his face.

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. "Didn't you hear me? I said Don…"

Nodding slowly, his father replied, "I heard, I heard. Since when does your brother's imminent arrival get you into such a state?"

Charlie dropped into a nearby chair. "Dad," he said, the tone of his voice urging Alan to understand. "I have a lecture on the Gauss Prize tonight. It's very important that I'm not late."

"The 'Gauss Prize'?" Alan's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I don't think I've ever heard of…"

Rubbing a hand through his dark hair, Charlie interrupted, "That's because it's never been awarded before." He stood and began pacing in agitation. "The Gauss Prize is a new award named after Carl Friederich Gauss. He was practically the father of applied mathematics…" He stopped and turned to his father. "Never mind. The point is, the Gauss Prize is an award for those whose work in mathematics has made an impact outside of the math community." Charlie gestured wildly as he added, "It's a monumental award for applied mathematics, Dad! The first one is to be awarded this year, and the lecture tonight is all about that! I don't want to miss it!" He brushed past his father, muttering, "Now where's that damn tie…"

Alan snorted softly in laughter as Charlie bounded back up the stairs. His son's antics when he got into an agitated state never failed to amuse him. As Charlie raced back down, now with a maroon tie draped around his neck, Alan asked, "So – you're not the one giving the lecture?"

Charlie shook his head as he headed to the hall mirror. "I'm not a lecturer, no." Just at that moment, the front door opened and Special Agent Don Eppes stepped through.

"Hey Charlie," he said by way of greeting. "Look who I found in the driveway." He stepped to one side to allow the people behind him to enter. Charlie smiled broadly as his friends Larry Fleinhardt and Amita Ramanujan came through the doorway behind his brother.

"Hey, Larry – Amita. You coming too?" he asked.

The pretty young woman glanced at her companion and shrugged. "It _is_ a landmark event Charlie. I wouldn't want to miss it."

"Absolutely," Larry agreed. He folded his arms and rested his chin on his right hand. "I can't think of a single instance when I anticipated the arrival of a mathematical award more. It's long overdue."

Charlie turned back the mirror and began fumbling with his tie. "Me neither. It's about time people working in that field got recognition for all their hard work."

Don chuckled. "Like you, Charlie?"

Pausing, his brother said speculatively, "Like me… but not necessarily me." He resumed tying. "I know plenty of people who work in applied mathematics that deserve this award." Dropping his voice a little, he added, "And some who never lived to see it."

Amita reached out and rubbed Charlie's shoulder sympathetically. She watched his fingers slow on the dark silk, and finally turned him around to face her. "Let me do it," she offered. Charlie's hands dropped to his sides as she undid the knotted mess at his throat. "Ties are so overrated," she observed lightly.

Don exchanged a puzzled glance with Alan, who shrugged. "Who are you talking about, Charlie?" he asked. "Mom?"

"Actually," Larry replied softly. "I don't believe that Charles was referring to your mother in this instance, Don."

Charlie shook his head sadly. "No," he said. "Although Mom would've been interested. I was thinking of someone else."

Amita finished with the tie and brushed some loose hairs from Charlie's collar. "There you are," she said brightly. "All set."

Don smiled, masking his concern for his little brother. "Looking good Charlie." Glancing at his watch, he exclaimed, "If we don't leave now, we'll never make it on time!"

Charlie grabbed his suit jacket from where it was draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs. Shrugging into it hurriedly, he said, "Let's go then." Calling a farewell to his father, Charlie ushered his friends out the door. Both Larry and Amita said their goodbyes as well and headed for Amita's car.

Don traded a long look with his father before hurrying out the door after them.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie carefully set his knife and fork on his plate and sighed heavily. "Dad…" He tried to stem the flow of questions. Ever since he and Don returned from the lecture, his father had been asking – directly and indirectly – for Charlie to explain his earlier comment. "I don't want to…"

Alan interrupted. "Well pardon me if, as a concerned father, I worry about what is bothering you! You make a remark like that and then breeze out the door – I've been wondering what's gotten you so down lately!"

"I am not 'down'!" Charlie all but yelled. Rising from the table, he picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen.

"Come back in here and finish your supper!" Alan commanded Charlie's retreating figure.

"I seem to have lost my appetite!"

Alan growled in frustration and glanced at his eldest son. "Don't you have anything to say?" he asked.

Don shrugged and downed the last of his bottle of beer. "Like what?" he countered. "If Charlie wants to talk about it, he will." He rose from the table and picked up his plate. "If he doesn't… you're not going to get him to." Heading for the kitchen, he added, "Leave him be, Dad." He drew up short as the door swung open abruptly. Charlie narrowly missed colliding with his brother on his way out of the kitchen. Don watched silently as the young genius took the stairs two at a time.

Shaking his head, Alan picked up his own dish and stood to follow. "Whatever this is has been bugging him for a week now," he said by way of explanation. As Don held the door open, he passed through into the kitchen and set his plate on the counter by the dishwasher. Don added his own to the stack and grabbed a sponge to wipe down the countertops. Alan continued, "I wish he'd just let it out. He'd feel better."

"Why don't you tell him that?" Don asked, hands spread wide, palms up. "The way you've been asking, it sounds like an attack." He turned away and began sweeping detritus from the evening's meal into the disposal. "If I asked questions like that in my line of work, I'd never get anywhere."

"I'm not conducting an interrogation, Don!" Alan argued, putting dishes into the dishwasher with a loud clatter. "I'm worried about your brother – he's upset about something, and I want to know what it is!" He slammed the heavy door shut and braced the palms of his hands on the countertop. "I want to help him," he finished quietly.

Don set down the sponge and put one hand on his father's shoulder. "Then leave him alone, Dad. Let him do – whatever it is he needs to do. He'll tell you when he's ready."

"Like you do?" Alan snorted in derision. He shrugged off his son's hand and turned to face him. "You never tell me what's bothering _you_."

Don made as if to turn back to the sink, but stopped. Fixing his father with a steady gaze, he replied in a low tone "Maybe I'm not ready."

In the stunned silence that followed this announcement, Alan glanced over Don's shoulder to see Charlie standing in the open doorway. Clearing his throat, Alan asked, "How long have you been standing there, son?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not long," he replied. He stepped into the kitchen and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans, the picture of discomfort. "I was thinking, and I realised you weren't trying to be nosey, Dad…" He shrugged. "And then I heard you say you were worried about me."

"Let's go sit down in the other room," Alan offered. The three men filed into the dining room and resumed their seats. Both Don and Alan waited patiently for Charlie to continue.

Shaking the curls out of his eyes, Charlie said, "When I was at Exeter giving a lecture…"

Don cut in. "You were at Oxford?"

"About – what? Four? Five years ago, Charlie?" Alan responded.

"Closer to six." Charlie rolled his eyes at the interruption. "Anyway – I was giving a lecture there and I met this wonderful woman…" At his brother's widening grin, Charlie sighed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Don. She was a fellow mathematician – a researcher, in fact – with some brilliant ideas for application outside of the laboratory."

Alan asked, "What happened?"

Charlie shrugged. "Not much. We talked – for hours. She was incredibly brilliant. A wonderful mind…" he trailed off.

Don leaned forward. "Charlie?" he asked softly.

His brother scrubbed his face with both hands and heaved a tortured sigh. "Last week I got a letter in the mail. From her lawyer. It said she'd been killed in a car accident." Don and Alan exchanged long looks. "He's coming here."

"Who?" Alan asked. "The lawyer? From Oxford?"

Nodding, Charlie said, "Apparently she wrote me into her will."

"You must have made quite an impression," his brother observed.

"I guess." Charlie sighed again. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but… I don't want anything of hers. I don't want to be reminded…"

Alan said slowly, "I understand. I know how you feel, Charlie."

Charlie looked at his father sadly. "I thought you might." He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the tabletop. "It's just so hard – she was a beautiful person. Not just physically, but mentally… spiritually." He paused. "I mean…"

"She had a beautiful soul," his father finished.

"Yeah," Charlie whispered. He gazed at the polished oak sorrowfully. "A beautiful soul," he repeated.

Don reached out and covered his brother's hands with one of his own. "I'm sorry, buddy," he said. "We'll be here when he shows up – will that make you feel any better?"

Charlie nodded again and lifted his gaze to his brother's face. Giving him a crooked smile, he replied, "Yeah. That'd be good."

"No problem." Don let go of Charlie's hand and stood up. "Any idea what time?"

"Anytime after eight," he replied. "I told him I had afternoon classes." He watched as his brother unclipped the cell phone from his belt and walked into the kitchen. He could hear Don making a call – probably to his office.

Alan spoke. "Charlie, why didn't you tell me sooner? You've been going on for a whole week…" he let the words trail off, unsure of how to continue.

"Don't, Dad," Charlie pleaded. "It's enough – this is enough. Now you know."

"All right." Alan pushed back from the table. "You'd better get some sleep, my son. Tomorrow comes early."

Don re-entered the room. "All set," he said. "I'm going to go home. I'll be back at seven thirty."

Charlie and his father stood simultaneously. "Thanks, Don – Dad," he said before heading for the stairs. "I appreciate this." His heavy footfalls hung in the air long after his bedroom door had closed.

Alan turned to his oldest son. "Yes, Don," he added. "Thank you."

"Hey," Don replied, grabbing his jacket from its peg near the front door. "We're family, right?" He sketched a short wave and departed.

"We're getting there."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Professor Charles Edward Eppes?"

Charlie nodded at the elderly man standing on his doorstep. "That's me," he replied.

The gentleman stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, my young man." Charlie shook it, pleasantly surprised at the firmness and warmth of his grip. He continued in his cultured Oxford accent, "My name is Bartholomew Wainwright. I'm Doctor Langhorne's solicitor."

Stepping to one side, Charlie invited the man in and ushered him to a chair in the living room. Wainwright didn't perch on the edge of his seat, like Charlie expected, but lowered himself right into the chair. "Lovely furniture, this," Wainwright commented. "Is it Stickley?"

"Yes, it is." Alan came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of cups and a coffeepot. "Are you familiar with Stickley furniture, Mr. Wainwright?"

"I'm an avid admirer of Gustav Stickley's work," the man replied. "You must be Professor Eppes' father."

Alan gave his youngest an admonishing glance. "Alan Eppes, at your service," he replied. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, I believe I would. Cream, no sugar, please. And by all means, do call me Barty."

Alan began to pour. "As long as you call me Alan," he replied.

"Certainly." Barty pulled back his sleeve cuff and checked his watch. "Dear me," he sighed. "I can never adjust properly to the different time zones." To Charlie, he said, "Would you happen to have the correct time?"

Glancing at his watch, Charlie replied, "It's ten after eight." He looked up at his father, about to ask where Don was when the door opened and his brother rushed in.

"Charlie… Dad…" he began, halting at the sight of their visitor.

"Don!" Alan greeted him warmly. "Come in and say hello to Mr. Bartholomew Wainwright."

The little man stood and took Don's hand. "Just Barty, please," he said.

"Don Eppes." Don released the other man's hand and seated himself on the couch. "Charlie's brother."

"And my son," Alan put in.

Don grinned. Turning to Charlie, he said, "Sorry I'm late. I got a phone call last night, and – you know how it goes."

"I take it you haven't gotten any sleep yet, then?" Charlie asked. Don shook his head.

Noting Barty's speculative look, Alan said, "Don gets calls at all hours of the day, Barty. He works for the FBI."

"Ah, how interesting." Barty seemed to relax slightly. "An FBI agent, a mathematics professor, and… what do you do, Alan?" he asked. "If I may inquire? Are you retired?"

"No, no," Alan answered, sitting beside Don on the couch. "Not anymore. I have a consulting business I run with a friend of mine. I used to be a city planner," he added. "Now I do architecture consultations."

"Admirable," Barty replied. "All fine upstanding careers."

Charlie leaned forward in his seat. "Mr. Wainwright – Barty," he amended. "You've been very nice and all, but can we get to the point please?" At Barty's upraised eyebrows, he continued, "I've got to admit – I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea of being in Cassie's will. I'm…" he paused and cleared his throat. "We were great friends, and I – I can't…" He trailed off, momentarily overcome with emotion. Don reached for him, but Charlie shook his head vehemently. After regaining his composure, he asked quietly, "Could we just get on with it?"

Barty set his cup on the coffee table. "Of course," he replied, his cultured accent a soothing balm to Charlie's nerves. "I am sorry for your loss, Charlie. Cassandra was a lovely young woman." He reached into his pocket and drew out a long, cream-colored vellum envelope. Passing it to Charlie, he said, "She left you this."

Charlie took the envelope in slightly trembling fingers. Glancing at Alan and Don for moral support, he gently opened the flap and pulled out a matching piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, he began to read. As his eyes scanned the page, he said, "This must be wrong."

"I assure you," Barty replied quietly. "It is all correct and completely legal."

Charlie looked at the grey-haired solicitor frantically. "No!" he cried. "No, it has to be wrong! I can't do this!"

"Charlie!" Alan became alarmed. Don reached for the paper as his father came around Barty's chair and put his arm around his youngest son's shoulders. "What's the matter, Charlie?" he asked. "What can't you do?"

Don read the letter, one hand over his mouth in shock. Looking up at Barty, he asked, "This is all in order, you said?" The elderly man nodded sombrely. Don added, "When is this supposed to happen?"

Glancing again at his watch, Barty replied, "In approximately forty minutes, if I've got the times correct. That would make it nine-fifteen, more or less, would it not?" Don nodded.

Alan demanded, "Would someone _please_ tell me what's going on here?"

"Certainly," Barty replied. "In her will, Doctor Cassandra Langhorne named Professor Charles Edward Eppes the legal guardian of her four-year-old daughter, Emma."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Your reviews are kind indeed. I haven't yet gotten the one I was expecting. For the person asking me to avoid a stereotypical or alluded character - have no fear. That isn't how I write. Some may note the changed font of this entry - that will be remedied as soon as I return to my home and my personal computer.

Chapter 2:

Alan looked at Barty for a long moment, mouth agape. "Legal guardian?" he asked. Turning to his youngest son, he said, "Charlie... Please tell me you didn't..."

Charlie shook his head rapidly. "We were just talking about this last night, Dad. Remember? I was there six years ago. This... girl... is four."

"No indeed," the solicitor replied. "Emma was born shortly after Cassandra's divorce. She reverted to her maiden name when the proceedings were finalized." Lacing his fingers together around his knees, he added, "Cassandra experienced many unhappy events in her short life."

Don scanned the page again. "It makes no mention here of Emma's father. Hasn't he put in a bid for custody?"

Barty pursed his lips. "No," he replied. "Cassandra didn't divorce her husband because they didn't love each other, Agent Eppes..."

"Don," he corrected absentmindedly.

"Don," Barty conceded. "She filed for divorce on grounds of infidelity." He spread his hands out, palms up. "It would seem Cassandra's husband loved two women. Shortly after the divorce was granted, he remarried. He and his new wife drowned a year ago in a boating mishap." To Charlie he added, "So you see, Professor Eppes. You're the only one left to care for this little girl."

Alan took the page from Don and read it carefully. "She must've rewritten her will shortly after his death, then," he surmised. Lifting his gaze to Barty's face, he asked, "What about family members?"

The question seemed to deflate Charlie. "She didn't have any," he replied before Barty could answer. "She told me."

"Unfortunately Emma seems fated to share in her mother's experiences," Barty agreed. "Cassandra was orphaned at the age of eight. Her parents left a tidy sum in trust for when she came of age, the interest of which was used for her upbringing."

"Who looked after her?" Alan asked.

Again, it was Charlie who replied. "Foster parents, mostly. From what she told me they treated her pretty good, but no one wanted to take the plunge and go for full-out adoption." Silence fell as the three Eppes men considered the implications. It was several minutes before Charlie spoke again. "Nine fifteen, huh?"

Barty nodded. "I am truly sorry to... what's the vernacular? 'Dump this in your lap', Professor. I realize this is extremely short notice..."

"No kidding," Don muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Gazing at him sadly, Barty said, "Believe me Don, if I had the luxury of time, I would have lent it you." Turning back to Charlie, he continued. "But Emma must be placed in an orphanage or foster care - or with you - as soon as possible. For her own sake."

"'For her own sake'?" Charlie echoed.

"A child cannot be left adrift, Professor Eppes. She must be placed somewhere, so she may form a semblance of stability. After all that has happened," Barty leaned toward Charlie, his elbows braced on his thin knees. "Don't you think that would be best?"

Charlie nodded mutely. He stood suddenly and headed for the kitchen.

Alan caught Don's eye, indicating with his head that he should follow his brother. Don nodded and rose. Once the door had swung shut behind them, Alan turned to the older man. "I'm terribly sorry about this, but... it's going to take Charlie a minute to get used to the idea."

"Do you think he might?" Barty asked, genuinely concerned. "She's really a delightful little girl. A shade quiet, perhaps, but given the circumstances..."

Alan frowned. "I'm not sure what he's thinking right now, to be honest. It's quite a thing to ask." Lowering himself into Charlie's vacated seat, he added, "What'll happen to her if he doesn't take her?"

Barty lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. "She will become a ward of the court. Her trust will be made property of the crown, to care for her as is seen fit until she comes of age."

"I see." Leaning forward, Alan explained. "Charlie's a kind person. He'll want to do what's right - for Cassandra's sake, and Emma's." He shook his head. "He just has to figure out what that is."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Don stood watching his brother pace the length of the kitchen, hands wringing together incessantly. After a few minutes, he stepped forward and caught Charlie by the forearms on a return pass. "Charlie," he said. His brother continued the hand-wringing, staring at the floor. "Charlie!" The increase in volume, coupled with additional pressure on his arms, served to snap Charlie out of his catatonia. "Listen to me, buddy. You've been tossed into a hell of a situation here. You need to make a decision."

Gazing at his brother helplessly, Charlie whispered, "What am I going to _do_, Don?"

Wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders, Don pulled him close. "You're going to make a choice, Charlie," he replied. "This isn't set in stone, you know. Nobody's going to think any less of you if you say you don't want to do this."

Charlie stood quietly, finding solace in his brother's embrace. A moment later, Don heard a faint murmur. "What was that buddy?"

Clearing his throat, the young mathematician repeated, "_I _will."

"Oh Charlie." Don turned him so they were face-to-face. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't beat yourself up like this. This is a huge thing you have to deal with."

Charlie shook his head, dark curls falling over his eyes. "I just wish I had more time, Don. I need..." He took a breath to steady himself. "I need to _think_."

Don nodded. "Maybe there's something we can do about that," he said. Charlie looked up at him hopefully. "Maybe we can buy some time." Dropping his arm from its comfortable position, Don turned and re-entered the living room. "Barty," he called. The elderly man rose from his chair immediately. "Is there some way you can contact whoever's bringing Emma over?"

"Of course," the lawyer replied, his confusion plain. "What's the problem?"

Don glanced at his watch. "Let's face it. Twenty five minutes isn't long enough to wrap your head around parenthood. Most guys get at least a few months for it to sink in. Can you call your people and ask them to take Emma to another place?"

Barty nodded. "You have something in mind?"

"Some_one_," Don corrected. "A couple of them, actually."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"You want me to do what?" Megan Reeves said into the phone. She looked at David Sinclair seated nearby, an amused expression on his face. "Don, I'm an FBI agent, not a babysitter."

"Megan," Don replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "I'm asking you to do this as a favor - not for me, for Charlie."

Megan's brow wrinkled in perplexion. "'For Charlie'?" she repeated. "What's going on, Don?" When no response came, she added, "Is Charlie in some kind of trouble?"

"No... yes... maybe. Look, Megan. All I'm asking is for you to occupy her for a little while. Just until we come and get her."

Megan rubbed her forehead. A headache had begun to throb lightly. "Don," she tried again in a more controlled tone. "I don't know what you're up to, and I'm flattered that you feel confident enough in our friendship to ask, but let's face it - I'm still pretty new here." She shook her head, forgetting for a moment that Don wouldn't be able to see it. "I could get in a ton of trouble having a kid hanging around the office." She looked up, startled, as the phone receiver suddenly left her hand.

"Don," David said. "It'sme - what's the problem?" His eyes met Megan's and his brows shot up as Don spoke. After a moment or two, David said, "Okay. Send her over." He leaned around Megan and dropped the receiver back in its cradle.

"Sinclair," she admonished. "What the hell did you just do?"

David grinned. "After your last statement, I decided if anyone should be sticking their neck out for Don, it ought to be me - I owe him a couple of favors."

"You do realize that this one might cost you your job? Or, at the very least, a written reprimand?"

He nodded. "Yes, Megan. I do."

Megan shook her head and turned back to her computer screen. "Men."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Don flipped his phone shut and resecured it to his belt. "All set," he annonced shortly. Turning to the aging solicitor, he asked, "How do we reach you?"

"I'm staying in a suite at the Biltmore," Barty replied. "Just ask for me by name." He paused. "I take it I may expect a call sometime today?"

Glancing back over his shoulder at the kitchen door, Don replied, "I certainly hope so."

Barty nodded. "Very well then. I leave the matter in your capable hands, Agent Eppes." The return to formality wasn't lost on Don. "I will await your call at my hotel. Good day, gentlemen." He picked up his hat and headed for the front door, Don and Alan following. Don reached for the knob, but didn't turn it immediately. "Please understand," he said to Barty quietly. "My brother needs time to adjust, and for him that means he needs space." When the lawyer's expression didn't change, he added, "Emma's in good hands, Barty. David Sinclair and Megan Reeves are more than just my coworkers - they're my friends. Good people." He paused. "The best."

Barty's frown softened somewhat. "I believe you, Don," he replied. "It's simply that that little girl had been through so much in the last week or so..."

"I understand," Don interrupted. "She's not being shuffled off onto someone else, trust me. In fact," he added with a smile, "When all is said and done, Emma will probably be seeing a lot of them."

Alan cut in. "Megan, David, Colby - they're almost family." He reached over and shook Barty's hand. "Don't worry about her - she's in good hands."

Don opened the door. "Really," he assured the older man.

"Very well," Barty nodded. "I will 'stop worrying', as you say, about the little girl. I must admit, she has claimed a spot in this old heart as her own." He turned briskly to Don. "I will be expecting your call," he finished. Nodding once to both men, he stepped outside and strode to the waiting car.

Don and Alan watched the expensive automobile glide out of sight. "Real old softy, isn't he?" Don asked.

"Mmm," Alan replied. "A chauffeur-driven car, did you see?"

Don laughed as he shut the door. "You're not jealous, are you Pops?"

"Me? Not at all!" Alan protested, heading for his usual armchair and the newspaper. "I have the perfect life right here." He snapped open the paper and began to read, effectively ending the conversation.

Don shook his head and went back into the kitchen to talk to his brother.

"Still," Alan added in an undertone. "A chauffeur would be nice."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm still getting the hang of this software. Imagine my suprise when I found the font in the last chapter hadn't varied from the first at all. Well, perhaps it's only me...

Chapter 3:

David Sinclair grabbed the phone on the first ring. "Sinclair." He waited and then replied, "I'm on my way." Hanging up the receiver, he stood and shrugged into his jacket.

Megan looked up from the report she was filing. "Already?" she asked. At the other man's nod, she pushed the drawer shut and moved to follow.

Colby appeared from around the corner of his cubicle. "I'm coming too," he said. "No way I'm gonna miss this."

Megan frowned at him as they stepped into the elevator. Silence reigned as they rode down to the lobby, the tension increasing subtly. Finally, David spoke. "Megan," he sighed. "Would you relax? You're a psychiatrist, for God's sake - you should be able to handle one little kid!"

"For your information," she replied coldy. "I'm a _profiler_, not a psychiatrist. And if you want her questioned, then I'm your gal, but..."

"It's a piece of cake, Megan," Colby interrupted. "Relax."

Megan looked him up and down, her gaze telling. "Uh huh," she replied. "Like you'd know, Granger."

"Kids are easy to deal with," he grinned as the doors finally slid open. "It's grownups that cause all the trouble."

They stepped out into the spacious lobby of the FBI building, scanning for sign of a small child and her caretaker. It was David who spotted them first. "This way," he said, leading them toward a row of chairs set along one wall. There was a prim-looking older woman sitting stiffly in one of the chairs, partly obscuring the small child seated to her right. The woman stood at their approach, followed by the little girl who had been twisting a lock of her long, strawberry-blonde hair around one finger. The woman leaned down and whispered something, and Emma's hand dropped behind her back.

Colby whispered, "What a cutie!"

"She's a little old for you, Granger," Megan whispered back.

David snorted. "Knock it off, you two." He approached the woman and offered his hand. "How do you do?" he asked. "I'm David Sinclair, and these are my associates, Megan Reeves," he gestured, and Megan shook her hand. "...And Colby Granger." Colby smiled and offered his as well.

"I am Miss Portman, Mr. Wainwright's assistant," the woman inroduced herself. Shifting slightly, she indicated the little girl. "And this is Emma Langhorne. Say hello, Emma."

She stepped forward obediently and offered her hand to David. "How do you do?" Emma asked politely. Her voice held no expression, and Megan frowned. David took her hand and shook it gently. "Hello, Emma," he said. "My name's David." He let go and gestured to Colby. "These are my friends Colby and Megan." Megan crouched down to her level and took her hand. "Hi Emma!" she said brightly.

"Hello."

Megan stood uncertainly and stepped back to offer Colby room. He, too, crouched down. "Hey there," he said warmly. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," she responded woodenly. She looked up at Miss Portman. "May I sit down now?" she asked.

"Yes, you may." The four of them watched as she perched on her chair again. As soon as Miss Portman turned back to the three agents, Emma slouched down in her seat. Immediately the older woman turned around and hissed, "Emma!" The little girl sat up abruptly.

Megan's heart went out to her. "We'll take it from here, Miss Portman," she said without warmth. "Thank you so much for bringing her."

"She's a handful," the other woman stated sourly. "You have to watch her or she'll start acting out."

David took her arm and gently but firmly guided her to the entrance. "We'll do that, not to worry, Ma'am," he replied. "We're trained FBI agents. She won't be able to pull anything with us."

Miss Portman glanced at the other two agents, and then sniffed. "Very well. She's _your _responsibility now." She passed through the revolving door and was gone. David turned back to Megan and Colby, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. "Did you get a load of that?" he asked.

"Old biddy," Colby spat. He crouched back down next to Emma's chair. "Hey," he said. When she looked up, he asked, "You want some ice cream?"

She looked at him warily. "Yes, please," she replied.

"Okay," he said, standing. He stuck out his hand. Slipping her fingers into his much larger ones, she hopped off the chair. She didn't start walking however, but merely stood gazing up at him. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Megan stepped closer and got down next to her. "What's the matter, sweetie?" she asked, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. Emma let go of Colby's hand and leaned close, whispering in Megan's ear. A grin slowly spread across her face, which she quickly masked. Standing, she said to Colby and David, "We'll be right back." Taking Emma's hand, Megan walked off around the corner.

David broke into a grin. "Well," he said, looking at Granger. "Now you know."

"Now I know what?" Colby asked.

"All those muscles of yours have the potential to scare the p-"

"Oh yeah, right," Colby interrupted. "Like your face doesn't have that effect?"

David ran a hand over his cheek. "This fine example of perfection?"

"Sure," Colby said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You just keep telling yourself that."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The three agents took the little girl to a nearby park, where they bought an ice cream each and then sat on a pair of benches overlooking a duck pond. Megan sat with Colby, while David shared a seat with Emma.

"Pretty good, huh?" David asked her around a mouthful of cone. Emma regarded him with a withering look. "What?" he asked.

Megan laughed. "I don't think she likes it when you talk with your mouth full."

David looked down at the little girl. "Is that it?" At her short nod, he said, "Sorry. Won't do it again." She went back to attacking her cone.

Colby and David exchanged grins. Megan watched Emma polish off her cone and begin to look around her, consternation on her face. Reaching over, Megan handed her a napkin, which she took and began studiously wiping her fingers. Megan frowned.

David noticed and looked down at Emma again. She had finished with the napkin, and was now looking for a place to dispose of it. Finally, she put it in her pocket.

Colby polished off his treat and licked his fingers. "Hey, Emma," he began. When she looked up, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Want to come watch the ducks with me?" A brief smile ghosted across her face and was gone. She nodded and hopped down off the bench, taking his hand. The two of them walked down to the water's edge.

Megan leaned toward David. "Did you see that?" she asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Kind of freaky, isn't it?"

Megan looked back at the two down by the water. "It's weird," she said. "What kind of four year old worries about wiping their fingers? Or littering?"

"Maybe she's just extremely well brought up?" David ventured.

Megan shook her head. "That's not normal behaviour - even for a well brought up kid. She's so..."

"Quiet?"

Pausing thoughtfully, Megan finally said, "Subdued."

"She's probably depressed," David replied. "After all, she's just lost the only person in the world that she had." Although not fully aware of the story behind Emma's presence, Don _did_ tell David that much.

"Maybe." Megan watched as Colby pointed at a duck out on the water. He was crouched beside the little girl, who kept a respectful distance, her hands behind her back. Megan sighed. "I hope Don hurries up with whatever he's doing," she said wistfully.

"You're not tired of her already are you?"

"No," Megan turned back to him. "But we do have work to do. We're probably the best paid sitters on the planet right now."

"Ah," David flapped a hand at her in dismissal. "Are you kidding? We're in LA - we're probably the _worst _paid sitters here." Megan grinned.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Colby sensed the wariness emanating from the tiny person on his left, and tried to put her at ease. Pointing at a small duck gliding across the water, he asked, "Know what his name is?" Emma shook her head. "Melvin," Colby answered his own question. Emma's nose wrinkled in confusion. _God, she's a cute one! _Colby thought. The dusting of freckles across her nose were pale enough to be almost nonexistent. He glanced at her clear green eyes ringed with pale lashes. "Know how I know that?" She shook her head again. "'Cause I come out here everyday to talk to him."

"No," Emma replied. _Progress! She's talking back! _

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Colby asked. He shifted position, careful not to get too close, and sat cross-legged on the grass. "Don't you believe me?"

She shook her head again.

"How come?"

Emma sat on the ground carefully. Brushing a bit of dirt from her knees, she said, "You're too big."

Colby looked at her. "Too big for what? Talking to ducks?" When she didn't respond, he turned his gaze back to the water. Shrugging, he conceded, "I suppose, to some people, I must be pretty big." He saw her turn her head out of the corner of his eye. Without looking at her, he added, "But ducks - especially Melvin over there - know better."

"They do?"

"Yep. You see," he leaned his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingertips together. "Animals know what we're like inside. They can tell." Turning his head a little, he said, "Melvin knows that I'm really just a softy." Emma's eyes grew round. "Yep. He thinks I'm a big old teddy bear."

The little girl cocked her head on one side. "You are?" she asked.

"Uh huh," Colby nodded. "Nothing to be afraid of here."

"Then why do you have that?" She pointed to his sidearm, barely hidden on the opposite side of his body.

"This?" Colby looked down at the weapon. "Because sometimes, even if I don't want to hurt anybody, a bad guy might want to hurt me or my friends. And if he has a gun, then I'm gonna need one too, don't you think?"

"So, a gun makes people stop hurting you?"

_Uh oh._ "Only if you're a policeman, or a soldier, or an FBI agent like me." Colby paused. "Or a bad guy." He studied her small face speculatively. "Did someone hurt you?"

Emma shrugged. "Once."

"Did you tell someone?" At her nod, he asked, "Who?"

"Mummy."

Colby shifted. The ground was getting uncomfortable. "What did she say?"

"She said she was going to off the eff-" Emma began, but Colby interrupted her. "Whoa! Whoa! I get the picture!" He chuckled mildly, which brought a small smile to her lips. "Did she take care of it? It didn't happen again, did it?"

Shaking her head quickly, Emma replied, "Nup. Mummy took care of him. He never came back." Her shoulders slumped. "Mummy's gone to heaven now," she said sadly.

"Yeah, pumpkin, I know," Colby said softly. "We'll take care of you now."

This brought her head up. "You will?"

Colby nodded. "You bet, sport. Me and David and Megan and..." He trailed off for a moment, unsure of how much she knew. "...And Don and Charlie and their daddy. What d'you think of that, huh? A whole army of people looking out for you."

"My own army?"

"You betcha," Colby assured her. Getting to his feet, he held his hand out. "What d'you say we go see what kind of trouble David and Megan are getting into?"

Emma scrambled to her feet. Slipping her small hand into his, she said seriously. "I'll bet it's something big. FBI people don't get into little trouble."

"No, sweetie," Colby agreed. "They sure don't."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: My thanks to QofC - this challenge has truly awoken my muse.

Chapter 4:

Don knocked tentatively on the garage door. "Charlie?" The lack of response piqued his curiosity - he knew his brother was inside. Pushing the door open slowly, he poked his head through the opening and called again. "Charlie?"

Charlie looked up from where he was resting on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes. "Hey Don," he acknowledged.

Don stepped through the doorway and approached his brother, taking a seat at the end of the couch where Charlie's feet rested. "How are you doing, buddy?" he asked.

Charlie swung his feet off of the cushions and hauled himself upright. "I'm okay Don. Please stop treating me like damaged goods."

"Sorry. It's just... I never know what to expect, y'know?"

Nodding, Charlie agreed. "Yeah, I know. Don't sweat it."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Don pondered what to say next, and Charlie waited for the question he knew Don would eventually ask.

"Don..." "Charlie..." They spoke simultaneously and then broke off, laughing.

"This shouldn't be so hard to deal with," Charlie said, when the laughter died down.

Don looked at him, puzzled. "Why not?"

Shrugging, the young mathematician replied, "Why not what? How hard could it be? Cassandra wanted me to take care of her little girl..."

"And put your own life on the back burner," Don cut in. "Yeah. No problem. Never mind what _you _had planned, what _you _wanted to do."

Charlie turned to face his brother. "Don," he began gently. "This isn't _about _me anymore. Someone else's well-being is a stake now, too." He shook his head, picking at the cushion under his knee. "How can I just send that little girl back on a plane to strangers?"

Don leaned across and placed a hand on his brother's knee. "And just what are _you_, Charlie?"

Lifting his head, Charlie stared directly into his brother's eyes. "Maybe I didn't know Cassandra that well, Don. Maybe I know Emma not at all. But I have an obligation to do the best I can, and that little girl has a right to be somewhere where she can be loved." He dropped his head, allowing the curls to curtain his face. "Even though..." His voice trailed off into silence.

"'Though'?" Don pressed.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie lifted his chin defiantly and continued. "Even though I may not be very good at it." Seeing the huge grin spreading across Don's face, he asked irritably, "What's so funny about that?"

"You, Charlie." Don lifted his hand and brought it down on his brother's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake as he did so. "If anyone around here is capable of tackling an unknown quantity with unbelievable success, it's you."

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know about that, Don."

Don stood and offered Charlie a hand up. "I do. And apparently so did Cassandra." Wrapping his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, he gave a small squeeze as he steered Charlie toward the door. "Come on," he added. "You have someone to meet, I think."

"Yeah. I guess I do."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Alan looked up from what he was doing as his two sons entered from the garage. "I see you brought him back alive," he remarked to Don, his voice not betraying the anxiety he felt.

"Yep," Don replied, dropping his arm from Charlie's shoulder. "He's made a decision." He stood to one side, allowing Charlie center stage. Alan waited.

"Yeah, um..." Charlie began. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. "I think I should at least meet Emma, spend some time with her, before I say I won't or can't do this." He lifted his eyes to his father's face, hoping for some hint of what the older man was thinking, but Alan's expression was unreadable. His voice barely above a whisper, Charlie continued, "I owe Cassandra and her daughter that much, at least."

Alan smiled warmly at his youngest son. "I'm very proud of you, Charlie," he said. Noting the look of confusion, he explained. "This isn't an easy decision to make, even if you had gone about it the traditional way. It's a big responsibility. And you're handling it very well."

"I am?"

Alan nodded. "You didn't jump up and say 'no', but you didn't fall over yourself saying 'yes', either. That takes a lot of maturity - a lot of guts." He stepped forward and placed his hands on Charlie's shoulders. "I'm proud of you, son." He pulled Charlie into a firm hug. "Good for you," he whispered.

Charlie stared at Don over his father's shoulder in confusion. His brother merely grinned and shrugged. Once Alan let go Charlie asked, "So where is she?"

Don pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. "I'll tell you in a minute," he answered, dialing.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Megan watched as Emma taught Colby the finer points of coloring. They were seated at the long table in the conference room, crayons and paper spread all around them. She smiled when the little girl shook her head vehemently at something Colby just said.

"What are they doing?" David asked from behind her.

Leaning back in her chair, Megan replied, "I think they're having an argument."

David pulled up another chair and sat. "About what?"

"Beats me." Megan folded her arms and watched as Emma picked up a green crayon and all but shoved it in the big agent's face. "Looks like she's winning, though." Colby took the crayon and began using it, stealing glances at the little girl out of the corner of his eye. Emma had a blue crayon clenched in her tiny fist, and was slowly and studiously coloring her own picture. Lifting his head, Colby caught the two of them staring and grinned. A sharp comment from Emma and he ducked his head again, the dutiful companion.

Megan and David exchanged broad smiles. "I think she's pretty bright, you know," she observed.

David nodded, opening the file in his hands. "Probably," he replied. "Her mother was a scientist."

"Yeah. But not like Charlie though - she's not what you'd call _brilliant_, just... bright."

"What do people always describe levels of intelligence with references to light?" David mused.

"Because to some people seeing high levels of intelligence is like staring into a source of light." Charlie came around the corner of Megan's cubicle, closely followed by his father and brother.

"Hey, Charlie," Megan greeted him. David added, "How are you, man?"

Nodding, Charlie replied, "Fine, thanks. Did... did Don fill you guys in?"

"Not really," Megan answered, casting a dark look at Don over Charlie's shoulder. Don put his hands up in a gesture of defence. "Hey! It wasn't my place to say anything!" he protested.

"No, it was mine." Charlie pulled up another chair and sat beside Megan. "A woman I knew died last week in an automobile accident," he explained without preamble. "In her will, she made me legal guardian of her daughter."

Megan glanced at David, who looked as shocked as she felt. Leaning forward, she asked, "And how're you taking all this?"

Charlie barked in mirthless laughter. "How do you _think _I'm taking it? Weren't you playing babysitter all day until I could get my head wrapped around it?"

"We didn't know why, Charlie," David cut in. "All we knew was you needed a hand."

Charlie hung his head. "I know," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Megan patted his cheek. "Don't worry about it," she said. "David, Colby and I are glad we could help."

Don spoke up. "Where _is _Colby anyway?"

David grinned broadly and pointed. "Doing as he's told, for once." The five them watched as Emma once again scolded Colby, taking away his green crayon and replacing it with a red one.

Charlie gasped. "She looks like Cassandra." He rose slowly from his seat and took a few steps toward the conference room window. He stood watching and then suddenly whirled around, a look of panic on his face. "I can't do this!" he cried softly.

Alan stepped around the others and quickly strode to his youngest son's side. Grabbing him by the upper arms, he looked Charlie directly in the eye and said, "You told me you had to at least see her before you decided." He gave Charlie a little shake and asked, "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Charlie shook his head mutely. "Good." Alan let his hands drop. "Because you _can _do this, Charles Edward Eppes, and you know it."

Charlie stood a bit taller. "Yes," he replied decisively. "I can." He turned and made his way to the conference room door, tapping lightly on the wood before entering.

They watched as Colby stood and shook Charlie's hand, offering him his seat. Charlie accepted, and Colby spoke to Emma briefly before leaving.

"Man, I wouldn't want to be in the professor's shoes right now," David commented. Alan and Colby joined the small group. Don said, "Guys, I really don't think it'd be a good idea for them to look out here and find us all standing around, staring at them." He indicated that they should follow him. "Let's go grab a coffee or something."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie watched the group depart, noting his brother's hand signal that they would return in ten minutes. Turning to Emma, he said, "Hi there."

"Hello." The crayon never stopped moving.

He tried again. "Do you know who I am?"

"Colby said your name was Charlie," she replied, nodding. "You're part of my army."

Charlie stammered in surprise. "Y-Your... your army?" he asked.

She nodded again, switching to a yellow crayon. "Colby said I had an army of people to keep me safe," she explained. "He said there was him, and David, and Megan, and Don, and Charlie, and daddy."

"Daddy?" Charlie echoed stupidly. _Way to go, _he mentally chastised himself. _Get a grip, Eppes!_

She sighed heavily and put down her crayon. "_Your _daddy," she said in exasperation. "_Don's _daddy. Colby _said _so." Picking up another, she resumed coloring. "Colby's a teddy bear," she added after a moment.

"He is, huh?" Charlie picked up a brown crayon and began coloring a tree trunk. "I thought he was a big, tough FBI agent."

"Nup," Emma disagreed. "He looks big, but he's a teddy bear. Melvin knows."

"Who's Melvin?"

Emma regarded him with a green glare. "Don't you know _anything_?" she asked imperiously. "Melvin's the duck. In the pond at the park."

Charlie smiled. "I guess I must look pretty dumb, huh?"

Studying him carefully, Emma replied, "No."

"I _don't_ look pretty dumb?"

She shook her head and went back to her picture. "You look nice."

Charlie knew he was grinning foolishly, but he didn't care. "Do you really think so?" he asked. At her nod, he added, "What do nice people look like, then?"

Cocking her head to one side, Emma considered. "We-ell," she drawled. "Like you. And Colby, and..." she shrugged. "Like my army."

"I dunno," Charlie replied. "You haven't met them all yet. How do you know Don looks as nice as the rest of the army?"

"He will," she said firmly. "I know."

Charlie laughed and Emma looked up, puzzled. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Charlie answered. "Just something I thought of. Don't worry." He sobered a bit. Lowering his voice, he said, "Emma." She set down the crayon and looked at him directly, waiting for him to continue. "Do you... Did anyone tell you about me? I mean, before today?" She nodded. "Who told you about me, Emma?"

"Mr. Wain-something. He was mummy's so-li-ci-tor." She pronounced the word carefully.

"Anyone else?" Charlie pressed. "Did Cass- did your mother ever mention me?"

The little girl seemed to be thinking hard. Finally she nodded. "She did," she replied.

Charlie fought to control his surprise. "What did she say, do you remember?"

Again the little nod. "She was drawing on a paper. She said because my daddy went to heaven, she had to say who would look after me if she went, too." She stared down at the tabletop. "Mummy went to heaven," she added sorrowfully.

Charlie reached out tentatively and set his hand on her small shoulder. "I know, Emma. I'm sorry," he said. "My mummy went to heaven too."

Emma lifted her gaze and regarded him seriously, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "My mummy went to heaven, and I didn't kiss her goodbye." Her small chin wobbled at the effort of keeping the tears at bay.

Charlie felt his own eyes begin to sting. "Neither did I, Emma," he whispered.

Suddenly a pair of small arms flung around Charlie's neck. He instinctively enveloped the little body in a fierce hug and began rocking her as she cried. "Shhh," he soothed, rubbing her back with his hand. "It's okay, Emma. Go ahead and cry. It's alright." They sat that way for a long time, Charlie alternately rubbing her back and smoothing her hair, rocking incessantly and holding her tight as sobs wracked her small body. He knew tears were coursing down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. They felt good.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Updates will be sporadic - I am currently travelling.

Chapter 5:

Don stepped around the corner, a cup in each hand, and stopped so abruptly that Megan almost walked into him. "What's the matter?" she asked. Don looked at her with a stunned expression on his face. "Don?"

"Look."

Megan looked. Through the glass window of the conference room she could see Charlie, his arms wrapped firmly around the little girl in his lap, his head resting on her smaller one. He was rocking gently from side to side and his lips were moving. Every so often Emma would nod, occasionally wiping her eyes or brushing the hair from her face. She played with Charlie's fingers as he spoke.

Megan gasped, causing the people behind her to crowd closer. Alan peered over her shoulder to take in the scene. David and Colby craned their necks to get a better view. Suddenly Charlie lifted his head and stared back at them. A slow smile crept over his face and he said something to Emma, who nodded. He stood, lifting her small body effortlessly and carrying her to the door. Don set the cups he was holding down and crossed over to the conference room just as they came out.

"Everything okay, buddy?" he asked. He could see tears on his brother's face.

Charlie nodded. "Everything's fine, Don," he replied. He glanced down. "Hey, want to meet another one of your army?"

Emma lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at Don. "Hello," she said quietly.

"Hi," Don replied, smiling. "My name's Don." At her nod, he added, "You must be Emma." She nodded again. He gestured behind him to where the others were standing. "My friends over there told me all about you. They said you guys had lots of fun today." Another nod. "Well," he said slowly. "I was wondering if you maybe might want to come to our house and have some supper?" When she looked at Charlie, he amended, "Well, it's really Charlie's house, but I visit sometimes, too." He exchanged a glance with Charlie. "Our dad over there," he indicated with a nod of his head. "He lives there too. What d'you say, Emma?" he asked. "You hungry?"

She directed her response to Charlie. "Is everybody coming?"

"W-well s-sure," he stammered, the question taking him by surprise. "If you want them to."

Emma seemed to mull this over for a moment. Shaking her head, she said. "No. I guess not."

"May be we can have them over tomorrow, huh?" Charlie asked. "Does that sound good?"

"Yes thank you." She looked at Don appraisingly for a moment and then held her arms out. "Carry me," she commanded.

Don grinned and scooped her from his brother's embrace. "Yes, ma'am!" he answered. Once settled firmly in his arms, Emma turned back to Charlie. "See?" she asked. "I _told _you."

Charlie smiled as he reached up to brush the hair out of her face. "Yes, you sure did," he agreed. "You were right." At his brother's puzzled expression, Charlie whispered, "She thinks you look nice."

Don smiled his thanks as they turned to the waiting group of people.

-x-x-x-x-x-

They didn't stay long at the FBI office after that. Goodbyes were said quickly and Don, Charlie, Alan and Emma were soon on their way home. Charlie took her on a tour of the house and grounds while Don and Alan started supper. They worked in silence for a while until Don asked, "What do you think?"

Looking up from the potatoes he was peeling, Alan replied, "Emma? She's a cute little girl."

"Yeah," Don said. "Yeah, she's cute, but that's not what I meant."

Alan looked out the window to where his youngest son was crouched by the koi pond, pointing out the fish to Emma. Sighing, he said, "I don't know Don. I can't tell yet."

Don nodded. He placed the bowl of salad he'd been assembling into the refrigerator and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I'll go make up the bed in the spare room," he announced, heading through the door.

His father watched him go, a speculative look on his face. Finally he shook his head and turned back to his potatoes. "Nah - can't be," he muttered.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Emma listened attentively as Charlie explained. "Everything has a pattern, Emma. The trick is to find it."

"Everything?"

Charlie nodded. "Mm hmm - take these fish for example..."

"What are they called?" she asked.

"Koi... they're called 'koi'," he replied, startled by the interruption.

Emma sighed in exasperation. "No. What do you _call _them?"

Charlie looked at her. "You mean their names?" he asked. She nodded. "I, uh... I don't know. I never gave them any."

"Did you ask?" Emma frowned and crossed her arms in disapproval.

Thinking fast, Charlie replied, "I don't understand fish."

"Oh," Emma nodded wisely. "I see." She dropped onto her knees to peer more closely into the water. "When's their birthday?"

Charlie shook his head. "They didn't tell me that either."

"Okay." She turned to face him. "When's _your _birthday?" she asked instead.

"September," he replied, smiling. "The fifth."

"Really?" she asked. "Mine's the eight."

"'Eighth'," Charlie corrected gently.

She tried it. "Eighth. The eighth." She nodded as though satisfied. Turning back to him, she asked, "Do you have a middle name?"

He nodded. "Edward," he replied. "You?"

"Charlotte." She frowned. "Isn't Charlie supposed to be Charles?"

"It is. Charlie's just what my friends and family call me." He sat cross-legged on the grass. "Maybe, because my birthday's on the fifth, and yours is on the eighth, we should have a big birthday party together." She looked at him warily. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Am I gonna live here?"

Charlie fell into stunned silence. He could see how much his answer meant to her. When he didn't reply, she shrugged and turned her attention to the koi pond. After a moment, she said, "Miss Portman said you wouldn't want me."

"Who's Miss Portman?"

"The lady who took me on the plane." She pulled at a tuft of grass and threw the blades in the water. "She was mean," Emma added.

Charlie swallowed. "She sounds very mean."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, broken only by Alan's voice calling them in to supper.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The three men watched as Emma picked at the food on her plate. Finally Alan leaned toward her and asked, "Aren't you hungry?" She shook her head minutely. He sat up and glanced at his eldest son.

Don cast a dark look at his brother before speaking. "Are you tired, Emma?" he asked. "I made up a bed for you - would you like to go to sleep now?"

Emma set her fork down carefully. Dropping her hands into her lap, she replied, "Yes, please."

Don put his utensils down, too. He offered her his hand as he stood. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you where everything is." The two of them made their way upstairs.

Alan turned to Charlie. "What happened?"

Charlie shook his head sadly. "I made a mistake." Alan waited for him to continue. Picking up a glass of water, Charlie took a small sip before adding, "I said something when I shouldn't have, and didn't say something when it was needed."

"Well, that was enlightening," Alan said sarcastically.

Charlie shook his head. "Just - leave it alone, Dad." He pushed his food around his plate sadly. "I shouldn't have said anything at all."

Alan set down his knife and fork. "Let me guess. You were talking like you were going to keep her, but when push came to shove, you couldn't say that much, right?"

"Like that," Charlie whispered.

Alan reached over and set his hand on his son's arm. "Charlie," he began gently. "You said you needed time to think." Charlie nodded. "So you got time to think. Now you have to act."

He sat in silence for a moment. "Wainwright sent someone named 'Miss Portman' with her on the plane."

"I know - Don told me." Alan withdrew his hand and picked up his cutlery. "David, Colby and Megan said she was pretty awful."

Charlie nodded. "Emma said she was mean. She told Emma I wouldn't want her."

Alan chewed thoughtfully. Swallowing, he asked, "You know what I saw today?" Without waiting for a response, he continued, "I saw someone I thought was pretty self-absorbed give a little girl a shoulder to cry on." Turning to Charlie, he added. "The thing you should be asking yourself is: If Wainwright came back tomorrow and said Emma had to go back to England with him, what would you do?"

Charlie sat quietly for a moment before shoving back his chair and heading for the stairs.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"There you go," Don said as he tucked the blanket around Emma's tiny shoulders. "How's that?"

"Fine, thank you."

Don regarded her small face thoughtfully. "What happened out there, Emma?" he asked. When she remained silent, he pressed, "_Did _something happen?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You can tell me, you know." He began rubbing her back in small circles. "I'm a really good listener."

She looked up at him briefly. "I asked if I can stay." She paused. "Could stay," she amended.

"Who, Charlie?" She nodded. "And what did he say?" A small shake of the head. "Nothing?" he asked. Another nod. Mentally cursing his brother, Don tried to explain. "Sweetheart, there's something you have to understand about Charlie. He's a mathematician - do you know what that means?"

"Mummy did maths," she whispered.

"Right," Don replied. "Did you ever ask her something, and she didn't answer you right away?"

Emma nodded. "She said she was thinking."

Don smiled slightly. "Charlie's like that. He has to spend a lot of time thinking. It's just the way he is. There's been lots of times when I ask him something and he doesn't answer." He raised his eyebrows. "Now if you ask him something that has to do with math..."

"Maths," she corrected.

"Maths, then," he amended. "If you ask him about that, then he'll go on for hours about it. But normal stuff? Forget it." He smoothed her hair. "Understand?"

"So I can stay?"

Don frowned. "I can't say yes or no about that, Emma," he replied. "It's not up to me. Your mom said Charlie was supposed to look after you, not me." He leaned down a brushed a featherlight kiss across her brow. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, we'll make sure you're safe."

She snuggled down into her blanket as Don stood. "My army," she said.

"You bet." Don headed for the door. "Sweet dreams, Emma." He pulled open the door and just about collided with his brother. Glancing back into the bedroom, Don shut the door softly before hissing, "What the hell did you do, Charlie?"

Charlie took a step back. "What do you mean?" he whispered.

"That little girl is heartbroken at the thought that you're going to send her back!" Don growled. "You built her hopes up, and then just sat there when she asked you if she was gonna stay." He shook his head. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Charlie pulled his head back sharply as though he'd been physically hit. "That would be none of your business, Don," he replied coldly. "This is my problem, not yours."

"Oh is _that _what this is?" Don sneered. "A 'problem'? Not a person, not someone's life - a 'problem'." He crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw angrily. "Well, I suppose if you reduce it down to an equation, the solution should come to you in a heartbeat, right?"

Charlie looked at his brother in surprise. "What's gotten into you, Don?" he asked. "Earlier you said I had my own life and my own plans to consider."

Some of the fury seeped out of the FBI agent and he let his arms drop to his sides. "Yeah, Charlie. I did. _You _told me it wasn't just about you anymore, though." He lifted his chin stubbornly. "And not saying anything, Charlie - that was just stupid."

"I know." Charlie stepped to the door and grabbed the knob. "I'm going to fix that right now."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Alan and Don waited for Charlie to come back downstairs, but to no avail. They could see light shining out from under the door of Emma's room and they could hear the occasional murmur, but there was no sign of what was going on between the math professor and his young charge.

Alan checked again an hour later. This time the glow had disappeared from under Emma's door, but Charlie's room was closed too. Alan sighed. There wouldn't be any answers tonight, he finally told his eldest son. Don went home to sleep.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Out of habit, Alan got up with the sun and began preparing breakfast. He was about to call Charlie and Emma down, when the young genius came bounding into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Good morning," Alan greeted him. "Have a good sleep?"

"Fine, thanks," Charlie replied around a mouthful of whole wheat crumbs. He headed back to the dining room, only to be stopped by his father's questioning gaze. "What?"

Alan frowned. "Don't you have something to share?" he asked pointedly.

Charlie shook his tousled head. "No time, Dad," he replied. "Things to do." With that he disappeared through the doorway.

Alan sighed and threw down the towel with which he'd been drying his hands. Heading out of the kitchen, he was just in time to see Charlie steer the little girl out the front door. "Hold it!" he commanded. Charlie turned. "Just where are you taking her?"

"With me," he responded simply. "Dad, we really have to go. There's a cab waiting."

Alan shook his head. "Charlie..." he began.

"Later, Dad. I promise." And they were gone, the door closing softly behind them.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Don sat and scowled at the computer screen. "Something I can help with?" He looked up, startled. David was watching him, his shoulder propped against the cubicle divider. "What are you working on?" he asked.

Don heaved a heavy sigh. "That's the problem," he replied. Throwing down the pen he'd been toying with, he confessed, "I haven't been 'working on' anything. I can't concentrate."

Nodding, David asked, "Charlie, right?"

Don gave him a sideways glance as he rose from the chair. "How'd you guess?" he growled.

David shrugged. "Not too hard to figure out. I _am _an FBI agent, you know."

"I hadn't forgotten." He headed for the small break room. Pouring coffee into a thermal cup, he added sugar and stirred it in, aware the other man had followed and was watching him carefully. He picked up his mug and took a long drink. Finally lowering the cup, he turned slightly and asked, "What's the matter?"

David took a step into the room. Lowering his voice slightly, he asked, "Did you sleep at all last night, Don?" Shaking his head, Don lifted the cup to his lips. David added, "You can't keep this up, you know. You were up all day yesterday and the night before, too." He moved closer, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If you don't get some rest soon, you're gonna regret it."

Don glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Keep the coffeepot full," he joked, half-heartedly.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Don," David said. "You, more than anyone, should know how dangerous it is to be over-tired in our line of work."

This time Don turned to face him fully. "Yes, David. I do." Meeting David's gaze directly, he added, "Do you think I'm a liability?"

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it." David took a step back. "Don't take your anger at Charlie out on me, Don." He headed out of the room, pausing in the doorway. "I'm not the one to blame here." He shook his head once before departing.

Don turned back to the coffeemaker. Topping up his drink, he added more sugar and dropped a stir stick into the brew. He headed back to his desk in silence withhis co-workers eyes on his every move. Setting his cup on the edge of his desk, he swept the room with a piercing glare, pausing every time he met someone's gaze until they dropped their eyes in embarrassment.

Megan came in at a half-run, a folder clutched in her hand. "Don!" she called excitedly. "We've finally got a break in the case!"

"Let's see it," he replied holding his hand out for the file. Instead of giving to him, she glanced around the room in confusion. "Where's Sinclair and Granger?" she asked.

"Checking on something," he lied. He, too, had noticed their conspicuous absence in his scan of the area.

Megan frowned. "Well let's hope they don't take too long," she grumbled. "We've got a chance to catch this guy Dodds if we get going now. LAPD is already on their way!"

Don grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. "Let's go then," he replied. "We can phone them on the way." Picking up his keys, he tossed them to Megan. "You drive."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Where's Don and Megan?" David asked. Colby was sitting on his desk, searching through a large folder.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Beats me," he replied. "They weren't here when I left." Just then his cell phone rang. Slipping it from where it rode on his belt, Colby flipped it open in one smooth motion and put it to his ear. "Granger."

After a pause, he said, "On our way." He snapped the phone shut and refastened it in the holder as he reached for his jacket. "That was Don," he explained. "Him and Megan are on their way to a takedown of this Dodds character. LAPD are already on scene, waiting for the word."

"Don called you?" David asked incredulously as they made a beeline for the elevator. "Why didn't he phone me?"

Colby punched the button for the parking garage. As the doors slid shut, he asked, "Because you ticked him off?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hey there," Amita said as she entered Charlie's office. Emma was sitting cross legged on the floor, a book in front of her.

"Hello," Emma replied.

Charlie came around from behind a bookcase. "Oh hey, Amita," he greeted. "What brings you here?"

Amita sat on the chair closest to where the little girl was reading. "I heard you had a new friend, Charlie. I came to say hi."

Charlie set down the book in his hands. "Emma," he said. "This is my friend Amita."

Emma stood, wiping her palms on her jeans. Holding out her right hand, she said seriously, "How do you do?"

Amita laughed nervously. Glancing at Charlie, she took Emma's hand and shook it gently. "Fine, thank you," she replied. "How are you?"

Emma lifted her shoulders once. "Okay, I guess." Dropping back down to the rug, she picked up the book and set it in her lap.

Amita looked to Charlie for help, but he only smiled indulgently. Sliding down off the chair, Amita sat on the rug as well. "What are you reading, Emma?" she asked.

Another shrug. "I don't know. I don't read yet."She turned a page. "I'm looking."

"What are you looking at?"

Emma glanced at her suspiciously. "Pictures."

Charlie chose this point to intervene. "Emma's looking at a book I picked out of the library for her on astronomical phenomenon."

"Oh," Amita replied. "You mean like star clusters, and nebulae..." she trailed off when he nodded. To Emma, she said, "I always thought they were very pretty."

The little head bobbed in assention. "They're bee-you-teeful" she drawled. "My mummy had a book like this one."

"Did she?" Amita asked carefully, unwilling to upset her. She'd been one of the first people Charlie had told about the death of Cassandra Langhorne - Larry being the other - and was aware of the little girl's tragic situation. Charlie had also told them both of his unenviable position. "I have books like that, too," she added. "Would you like to see them?"

Emma looked up - not at her, but at Charlie. "May I?" she asked.

Charlie nodded. "I'll come and get you later, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed amiably. She turned to Amita. "Yes. I'd like to see them, please."

Amita spared her friend a surprised glance before replying. "Sure. Let's go take a look." Levering herself from the floor, she waited until Emma got up before offering her hand. Emma took it easily and followed her from the room.

Grinning broadly, Charlie reached for his book again only to begin searching his pockets for his cell phone as it started ringing. Finally locating it, he flipped it open and said, "Hello."

All color drained from his face as he listened. "When... But what happened?" He paused. "I see... No, I understand. I'll... Yes, I'm on my way now. Did you call...?" He grabbed his bookbag and started tossing items into it haphazardly. "Okay, good. I'm leaving now. Are you going to be... Okay. I'll be right there, Megan." He snapped the phone shut and dropped it in his pocket. Picking up his laptop case, he slung the strap over his shoulder and seized the bookbag by its handle. He headed for the open door, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of Larry Fleinhardt.

"Charles, where are you off to in such a rush?" he asked.

"Amita," Charlie replied breathlessly. "Emma's with her - I have to go. Now."

Larry studied his friend's face. "Is everything alright?"

Charlie shook his head. "Larry, could you... Would you ask Amita to watch Emma for a little while? I really have to..."

"Certainly," Larry interrupted. "By all means go, Charles. Amita and I can look after the little girl for you. Don't worry."

"Thanks," Charlie said as he brushed by Larry. He called back over his shoulder. "I'll phone you later!"

"She'll be fine, Charles," Larry assured his rapidly disappearing figure. "Don't worry!" Turning back to the now empty room, Larry scratched his head thoughtfully. "Now where in the cosmos do I find them?"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I can finally post after spending a couple days recuperating. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next instalment up before I leave again. Or the site goes down. Whichever.

Chapter 7:

Charlie wove his way through the crowds of people in the emergency department, searching for a familiar face. There had been a pileup on the 405 but he was sure most of those congesting the corridors were family members or concerned citizens, not walking wounded. Pushing past a group of teenagers loudly marvelling at the way the entire incident had progressed, he finally reached the duty station.

"I'm looking for my brother," he told the woman behind the desk. She rolled in her chair to the nearest monitor without looking up. "Name?" she asked, fingers poised over the keys.

"Don – Don Eppes."

Her eyes flitted over the screen. Pointing to an area off to the right, she replied, "Down there. Exam room six."

Charlie barely acknowledged before he hurried down the hallway toward a closed door with the Roman numeral 'VI' posted next to it. He glanced at the light over the door. It was off, indicating the room was free to enter. He knocked once and then pushed on the handle.

Megan was standing next to a tall bed. On the bed – and apparently extremely unhappy about it – lay Don, his face a mask of barely-controlled rage. He seemed about to say something to Megan, but broke off upon seeing his brother.

"Hey, Charlie," Megan greeted him warmly. "Thanks for coming."

Charlie stepped into the room, glancing over at her. "Hey." Turning to Don, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," he growled, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Megan gave him a long-suffering look. "Right," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She addressed Charlie. "We've been telling him for the past three days to get some rest. To put something in his stomach other than stale coffee." Don made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. "Well," she added, "It looks like it finally caught up to him."

Charlie waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he asked, "Am I supposed to guess?"

"Nothing happened, Charlie!" Don replied loudly. Megan put a hand on his shoulder, which he immediately shrugged off. "Don't you have a class to teach or something? There's no reason for you to be here!"

Turning as if to leave, Charlie was halted by Megan's hand on his arm. She nodded at him and crossed to the door. "I'm going to step outside for a minute while you two chat, okay?"

Don lifted his elbow and peered out at her. "Find me some damn papers to sign while you're out there," he commanded. Megan rolled her eyes and eased the door shut behind her. In the silence that followed, Charlie studied his brother carefully. He'd been so wound up in his own affairs over the past two days that he'd failed to notice the strain in Don's features, or the tension coiled in him like a tightly wound spring. "How are you feeling?" he whispered tentatively.

Don heaved a sigh and let his arm drop. "Like an ass," he confessed. "Sorry for yelling at you, buddy." Charlie could easily see the dark circles under his eyes. "I guess I just overdid it."

Pulling up a chair, Charlie sat and placed his hand on Don's arm. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. When no answer was forthcoming, he withdrew his hand and laced his fingers together in his lap. He noticed, too, the slight transparent cast to Don's skin. Veins stood out on his arms, and not just because of the extra fluids going into them. Two bags labelled 'glucose' and 'saline' hung from the IV tree beside the bed, linked together – and to Don – through slender tubing.

"You're dehydrated and malnourished," Charlie observed.

Don glanced at him briefly. "I thought your doctorate was in mathematics," he muttered.

Sighing, Charlie said, "I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, Don."

"Then just what _are_ you trying to do?" Don sat up suddenly, propping himself on his elbow. He squeezed his eyes shut as he was hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea. Charlie stood to help ease him back down onto the pillow. Once the spell had passed Don breathed, "Wow."

Charlie pulled the blanket up to his chest and then stepped back. "I promise," he said quietly. "I'll argue with you later if you want. Just relax, okay?"

Don gave him a calculating look out of the corner of his eye. "You call Dad?" he asked.

"No." Charlie shook his head. "Should I have?" Instead of responding, Don merely grunted. "Megan phoned me and I dropped everything to come down here."

Don turned his head sharply. "What did you do with the kid?" he asked.

"Her name," Charlie answered coldly, "Is Emma. Not 'the kid'." He stared at Don, his expression softening somewhat as an idea occurred to him. "Don, are you _jealous_?"

"Don't be stupid. Who the hell would I be jealous of? You?" He snorted. "That's just…" he trailed off. Charlie bit back a response and waited. Don stared up at the ceiling. "…Ridiculous," he said finally.

"Yeah." Charlie agreed quietly.

Don looked at him sharply, but Charlie said nothing more. Returning his gaze to the spot over his head, Don muttered, "Yeah, it is."

Just at that moment there was a soft rap on the door. "Come in," Charlie called. The door opened slightly and Megan stuck her head in. "Everybody decent?" she asked, causing both men to smile. She pushed the door wider and stepped inside. "Good. Don, I spoke to the doctor. He's willing to release you…"

"Thank God!" Don said. Megan held up her hand. He paused in the middle of getting up. "But?" he asked.

"But," she continued, "I had to do some smooth talking. He'll release you on one condition: You go home with Charlie."

"What?"

Charlie nodded, looking at his brother speculatively. "Sounds like a good idea to me," he said. "You know Dad won't let you mistreat yourself. He's been watching over me for years."

"I'm not an absent-minded genius, Charlie," Don replied. "I don't need someone 'watching over me'."

Megan shook her head. "Given that you're in here, Don," she smirked. "I'd have to call you a liar." Don opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "And he won't sign off on your medical, either."

In the process of climbing off of the bed, Don froze and gaped at her. "You're not serious," he said.

"I'm sorry," Charlie interrupted. "Could someone please explain what's going on here?"

Don ignored him. "You're serious!" Megan nodded. "For how long?"

"A week," she replied. "Maybe more."

Charlie rounded on her. "Megan!" he protested.

She answered, "The doctor won't sign a form allowing Don to go back to work for at least a week."

He turned back to Don, a grin spreading across his face. Don glowered at him. "What the hell are you smiling at?" he asked.

"A week," his brother chuckled. "Oh Dad is gonna _love_ this!"

Don groaned. "Dad! What do I say to him?"

Megan tapped her chin thoughtfully with one slender finger. "Hmm," she mused. "How about: 'Dad, I got hauled off to the hospital today because I hadn't slept in three days and I haven't eaten in more than a week'?"

"That's not true!" Charlie protested. "Don was over for supper last night! He ate then!" He turned back to Don, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "Didn't you?" He looked at Megan, who glanced at Don and then shook her head. Charlie lowered himself into the chair. "You didn't eat?" he asked his brother.

Finally, Don muttered, "Not really. Had other things on my mind."

"Oh, Don," Charlie breathed. "What have you been doing to yourself?"

"Knock it off," Don grumbled, sliding his feet to the floor and standing unsteadily. "You sound like somebody's mother."

Charlie's head snapped up. He refused to be baited, though. He stood and walked over to the closet to get Don's clothing. "Here," he said, tossing the garments on the bed. "You'd better get dressed." Don merely glanced at him before picking up his shirt. Charlie looked pointedly at Megan. She was watching Don with some amusement. Upon seeing Charlie's look, however, she said, "Well I think I'll go see what's keeping that doctor."

A few minutes later the door opened and a nurse came bustling in. She quickly removed his IV, covering the puncture with an adhesive bandage before hurrying back out. Charlie waited until the door had closed before reaching up to untie Don's gown.

"I can get it myself." Lifting his hands to the ties, Don staggered and would have fallen over if Charlie hadn't grabbed him.

"Right." Charlie eased his brother down onto the edge of the bed. He unlaced the gown and pulled it off Don's shoulders. Picking up the shirt, he held it in front of his brother. "You want to do this?" he asked. Don looked at him balefully. "Okay. Hold out your arm if you can."

It took almost five minutes, but finally Don was dressed. His face was pale and drawn and he was gasping by the time his shoes were on – a task he insisted on doing for himself. He looked at Charlie sheepishly. "Feel like a damn invalid," he said by way of apology.

Charlie gave him a small smile. "You'd better take a minute before we go out, or they're never going to let you go." Don nodded weakly as he lay back on the pillow. Charlie lifted his feet up, crossing them at the ankles. At Don's puzzled expression, he explained, "Might as well make the pose look intentional."

Just at that moment, the doctor entered the room. "Agent Eppes," he began shortly. "Sit up for me, please."

Charlie carefully masked the concern he felt as he watched his brother draw upon a hidden reserve of strength to sit up normally and – apparently – effortlessly. He held his breath as the doctor checked Don over and pronounced him fit to leave. As he turned to leave, however, the little man said, "Very good, Agent Eppes, but you're not fooling anyone. I hope you don't have a secret aspiration to become an actor." The door drifted shut behind him.

Letting out his breath, Charlie looked at Don. "Let's go home."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter has beenupdated due to an oversight of mine. Nothing has changed except 'astrology' has been replaced with the correct term 'astronomy'. My apologies to the astronomers out there - it was a typographical error only. I _do_ know the difference.

Chapter 8:

Charlie and Don made their way into the house slowly, Charlie slightly behind his big brother but not touching, as per Don's request. It didn't work.

"Don!" their father exclaimed, coming into the room. "What happened?"

Glancing at his brother to remain silent, Don replied, "Fell down, Dad. Nothing serious."

Alan scrutinized him carefully. "You fell down," he repeated. His voice was heavy with disbelief. He looked to Charlie for confirmation. At his youngest son's nod, Alan pursed his lips thoughtfully. Once Don got settled in a chair he asked, "_Why_ did you fall down?"

Don looked to Charlie for help, but the young mathematician held his hands up in surrender. "You're on your own on that one Don," he said. "I have to go phone Amita." He turned and headed for the kitchen.

Alan sat on the couch. Looking at Don's hands, he commented, "Must've been a hell of a fall."

Don glanced down. He'd forgotten about the bandage. "Yeah, well," he mumbled. "You know how it is…"

"No, I don't," replied Alan. He leaned back on the couch and folded his arms. "But I'm _positive_ you're going to tell me." The experienced FBI agent suddenly felt as though he'd been busted for breaking a window. "Dad…"

"Don't you 'Dad' me, Don Eppes. What have you done to yourself this time?" Alan leaned forward and studied his face carefully. "You haven't been looking after yourself, have you my son?" he added softly.

Don glared at his father. "What makes you think I haven't?"

Alan stood. "If you're going to act like a child, you'll get treated like one." He headed for the kitchen. "Stay put while I find you something to eat." He met Charlie coming out. "Did you know about this?" Alan asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No idea."

Alan glanced at the back of Don's head and frowned before entering the other room. After the door swung shut, Charlie walked over and sat by his brother. "How're you feeling now?" he asked.

"Like I've been run over by a truck." Don sighed. "He certainly hasn't lost his touch, has he?"

"Nope." Charlie gazed at him thoughtfully. "You know," he mused. "You shouldn't be feeling _that_ badly."

"Figure of speech, Chuck."

Alan strode out of the kitchen, tray in hand. "I want you to eat all of this, Don," he ordered. "And then you're going to go straight to bed." He set the tray on the coffee table.

Don looked at the spread sadly. "Dad, I appreciate it, but…" He shook his head. "I'll never be able to eat all this."

Charlie leaned across and picked up the sandwich plate. Setting it in his own lap, he said, "Not to worry, bro. I'll help you out."

Smiling slightly, Alan conceded "All right, Don. But eat all of the soup, okay?" When Don obediently picked up the spoon, he turned to Charlie. "Where's Emma?"

Charlie glanced at Don. His brother's spoon had faltered briefly, spilling soup back into the bowl. Swallowing a mouthful of bread and roast beef, he replied, "Amita's bringing her over. I left her with Amita and Larry." At Alan's disapproving look, he added, "She wanted to see Amita's book on astronomy. She wouldn't have wanted to leave just then, anyway." He nodded his head at Don. "He needs to drink water."

"Water?" Alan asked.

"Lots of water."

Don protested. "You're going to make me sick, you know."

Alan headed back to the kitchen. "You _are_ sick, you know!" he countered. The door shut on any response Don would've made.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Larry and Amita arrived shortly after Alan sent Don to bed. Emma was full of information about the book she'd seen. "…And there's one called the Crab – uh, the Crab…" She turned to Amita for help.

"Nebula," the young woman offered.

"The Crab Neb-yoo-la." Emma wrinkled her brow in disgust and then shrugged. "…And the Horse Head Neb-yoo-la, and…" Charlie smiled as the little girl seated on his lap recited a litany of stellar formations.

Alan watched from the dining room, marvelling at how well the two got along. "It's like…" he began saying to Larry in an undertone, but stopped.

Larry looked at him knowingly. "She's his own," he finished.

Nodding, Alan replied, "I didn't want to say it. I thought I might jinx it."

"I understand," Larry confided. "I too find the entire situation and the ease with which Charles has adjusted to be almost… surreal."

Something Charlie said caused Emma to laugh. He looked over at his father, his eyes shining in triumph. Alan smiled sadly. Charlie ducked his head at that moment and so missed the expression on his father's face. Larry, however, did not. "Something wrong, Alan?" he asked.

"No," he whispered. Clearing his throat, he repeated firmly, "No. I was just thinking… His mother would have been so proud…"

"She would have indeed," the physicist agreed. "And yet, I believe, on some existential plane, she may already know."

Alan looked at him. "She does," he replied. "I'm sure of it."

-x-x-x-x-x-

When Don came down the stairs several hours later, it was to find the lights off and everyone in bed. He paused, considering going back up, but extreme thirst overwhelmed him and he headed for the kitchen. Two large glasses of water later and he was ready to go back to his room. He wandered into the dining room, only to pull up short at the sight of a small figure standing by the table. Stepping forward slowly, he bent down on one knee and asked, "What are you doing up, sweetie?" When she didn't reply, he held out his hands. "Come here," he said gently. Emma ran over and threw her arms around his neck. "Hey!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What's the matter?" He patted her back awkwardly. "You can tell me, Emma – what's wrong?"

She pulled back a little and whispered, "I miss my mummy."

"Well, of course you do honey," Don replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're supposed to."

She looked at him disbelievingly. "I am?"

Don's head was beginning to spin again. Getting slowly to his feet, he said, "Come sit on the couch with me and I'll tell you why." The two of them walked to the living room hand in hand, Don trying desperately to maintain his balance. It wouldn't reassure the little girl much if he passed out right now, and reassuring was exactly what he wanted to be. He eased himself down onto the cushions and then patted the seat beside him. Emma climbed up on her own – much to his relief. Once she was settled comfortably in the crook of his arm, snuggled up against his chest, he explained. "You see Emma… grownups try all the time to be special. Maybe they want to be special to another person, or maybe they want to do something special in their job…"

"Like my mummy," she nodded.

Don glanced down at her. "Okay," he agreed, raising his eyebrows. "Like your mummy. And they try hard all their life to be special in some way. You following me so far?"

"Yes," she replied. She suddenly climbed into his lap and sat staring up at his face, waiting.

"Uh… okay," Don stammered. "So… people want to be… um…"

Emma spoke up. "Special."

Don nodded. His thinking processes weren't that clear at the moment anyway, and Emma climbing on his knee was unexpected, to say the least. "So, if they go away and you miss them, then they did it, right?"

"Did what?"

Don rubbed his face with his hand. "They… made themselves special." He looked down at Emma. Her gaze never wavered. "Understand?"

She nodded solemnly. "Then mummy was really special." Suddenly wrinkling her nose, she asked, "Is Uncle Charlie special?"

"'Uncle Charlie', huh?" Don smiled. "Yeah, pumpkin – Uncle Charlie is about as special as you can get."

Emma began playing with his fingers, the effect of which was oddly soothing. After a few minutes of silence she said, "He said I could call him that."

"Don't you want to?" Don asked.

"Yes." She fell silent again. "I don't think I can call him daddy," she added finally.

Don sighed. "You don't have to call him anything you don't want to, Emma," he told her softly.

"Okay." She cuddled up closely to his chest. Don leaned back into the cushions and rested his head on the back of the couch, relaxed and drowsy. "Can I…" she began, then amended, "May I call you Uncle Don?"

"Only if you want to."

"Okay."

That was how Alan found them the next morning – curled up together on the couch, fingers entwined. He smiled as he noted his eldest son's arm wrapped protectively around small shoulders.

They were getting there.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: There will only be one more chapter for this piece, I believe, although it will probably be a long one. I have been given another challenge by Roth, and I must confess - the idea intrigues me.

Chapter 9:

Charlie didn't reveal his plans for Emma until the following day. He was pleasantly surprised at the way Don and Emma were getting along, so his big brother's cold attitude – coupled with his father's occasional disapproving stare – came as quite a shock. Not one for subtle hints, it took an outright inquiry from Alan before Charlie finally realized what his family was so tense about.

"Didn't I tell you?" he asked. Don merely rolled his eyes at his younger brother's absent-mindedness.

Alan stared at him, open-mouthed. "No, Charlie," he replied flatly. "You didn't." Shaking his head, he added, "You really have to work on that memory of yours."

In the middle of grading papers, Charlie merely shrugged. "What can I say? I got distracted." He fell silent as he flipped through pages.

Don groaned. "_Charlie!_"

"Oh!" The mathematician set his work aside and folded his hands in his lap. "Well," he began, "I called Wainwright yesterday afternoon." Seeing the other men's expectant faces, he hurried on. "I told him he could go back to England – without Emma." Alan and Don exchanged triumphant grins. Charlie added, "I thought about what you said, Dad… and you were right."

Alan thought back. "You mean about Barty showing up here?"

"Yeah," Charlie agreed softly. "I know it's probably a bad idea to make such an important decision so fast, but…" He shook his head. "When I pictured him walking to his car with her, I…" He broke off, the look on his face begging his father to understand.

Alan nodded. "I see," he replied. "It hurt, did it?" Charlie nodded as well. "Then you probably made the right decision."

"I hope so."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Over the next few days the Eppes family spent more time together than they had in ages. Don slowly improved, progressing from soup to his all-time favorite: steak. Larry and Megan stopped by a couple of times to see how they were doing, although Don suspected Megan of surreptitiously watching to see if he was looking after himself.

Emma had taken to calling Alan 'Grampa Alan', much to his delight. He would spend hours entertaining the little girl with stories and games, sometimes making himself late to appointments for his consulting business.

Charlie attempted to teach her how to play chess – which she hated – and to read – which she loved. Don put his foot down when his brother announced his intention to teach Emma how to write. Spelling was not Charlie's forte.Don would take on that task himself. Amita stopped by occasionally whenever she had the opportunity, which wasn't often, but Emma always greeted her arrival enthusiastically and dragged her off to look at something new.

Life gradually settled into a pattern around the little girl. Charlie arranged for a close neighbor to look after Emma whenever both he and Alan would be out of the house. Don went back to work eventually but made time at least once a week to visit his 'niece'. Things were looking up.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was about four months later when Don walked through the front door of his brother's house to find Charlie sitting on the couch staring off into space. This in itself wasn't unusual, given the young genius' proclivity to slip into a trance when his mind went into overdrive, but there wasn't any evidence of a current project nearby. He walked over to one of the living room chairs and dropped into it, studying his brother's face carefully. Charlie looked… unhappy.

"What's up, bro?" he asked. He wasn't surprised when he received no response. Leaning over, Don set his hand on Charlie's knee.

Charlie came to with a jerk. "Hey, Don," he said softly. "I didn't hear you come in."

Don smiled. "No kidding. What's wrong?"

"What? Oh," Charlie waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing, Don – don't worry about it."

Leaning back in the chair and tapping his chin with a finger, Don replied, "I won't. I tend not to worry over things I know nothing about." Don put his elbow on the armrest and propped his head against his closed fist. "So… what's wrong?"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm probably being paranoid…" he trailed off.

"But?"

Grinning sheepishly, Charlie admitted, "It's probably not worth fussing about. It's just…" He turned to face his brother fully. "Emma won't call me 'Uncle' anymore."

"Is that it?" Don laughed. "Charlie – I have to tell you… I told her a while ago she didn't have to call you anything she didn't want to." He shook his head. "Did you ask her about it?"

"No." Charlie shrugged. "Let's face it – she's only four."

"Doesn't mean she's stupid. Ask her," Don stood and made for the kitchen. "She'll tell you."

Charlie waited until after lunch to take his brother's advice. Suddenly announcing he had to go to CalSci had the intended effect of sending Emma into squeals of excitement. She pleaded with him to bring her along, and Charlie made a token show of indecisiveness before finally giving in. Emma raced up the stairs to her room – Don's old bedroom – to grab a sweater.

Alan got up from the table and headed for the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes, effectively leaving Charlie alone with his brother.

Don smiled. "You gonna take my suggestion?" he asked. Charlie nodded. "Good. Let me know what you find out."

Although technically closed for the day, the school's picturesque campus was teeming with students and faculty alike. Charlie took Emma around as he visited various colleagues and departments, finally ending their excursion with a leisurely walk across the grounds to the café a few buildings down from the math department. Charlie treated the little girl to chocolate milk and a strawberry danish – her favorite pastry – while he ordered lemon tea. After she was happily munching on her treat he casually introduced the subject. "I was talking to Uncle Don today," he began. When she nodded, licking frosting from her fingers, Charlie continued. "And he told me I should ask you a question." He paused. "Wanna hear it?"

Emma shrugged. "Okay."

"It's just that I've noticed you don't call me 'Uncle Charlie' anymore." Charlie laced his fingers together on the tabletop and leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Uncle Don said you didn't have to, I know. And you don't. I just wondered why."

The little shoulders lifted in another shrug. She reached for the milk. "I don't know."

"Okay," Charlie conceded. "Fair enough. You don't want to call me that, that's fine by me." He leaned back and dropped his hands in his lap. "Do you have any idea what you _do_ want to call me?"

"Nope." Emma shook her head vigorously and popped the last bit of danish in her mouth. "May I have another one?"

"We-ell…" Charlie teased. "I suppose you could… I guess…" Emma gave him a withering glance. "Didn't you forget something?"

She grinned. "Please?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"What's up, Charlie?" Don asked as he seated himself at the table. "The message you left didn't really explain." He looked to Alan for help, but the older man just shrugged. He didn't know any more than Don. "What did you want us for?"

Charlie replied, "I was thinking about something, and I wanted to get your opinions on it." He studied his fingers, clearly nervous. "Emma's been here for almost a year…" he began. Suddenly he stood and started pacing.

"Son, what…?" Alan asked, but Don held up a hand. "Wait," he whispered. It was clear the FBI agent had a small idea of what was going on, but wanted to let Charlie tell it.

"Last week, at her birthday party," he continued as if Alan hadn't spoken, "When she blew out the candles?" Alan nodded but Charlie didn't see him. "She made a wish. She told Amita." His staccato sentences were beginning to grate on Alan's nerves, but he remained silent. Charlie turned abruptly and faced his father. "Emma wished for us to be a real family," he finally blurted.

Alan nodded thoughtfully. He glanced at Don, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide a broad grin. "And so what was it you wanted to tell us, Charlie?" he asked.

Charlie stepped toward them and grabbed the back of a chair as if needing its support. "I thought… I mean…" He stood up straight. "I'm going to adopt Emma," he announced firmly. He looked from Alan to Don and back again. "What do you think?" he asked, uncertainty creeping into his features.

"_I_ think," Don replied, glancing at his father and he slowly rose from his chair. "It's about time." He clapped Charlie on the shoulder and gave it a little shake. "Congratulations buddy!" His brother grinned back weakly.

Alan also stood, pulling out a chair. "You look like you'd better sit down," he said with a smile. Charlie dropped into the seat with relief. "I'm proud of you, son," Alan added, patting the top of his head. "Very proud."

-x-x-x-x-x-

After supper that evening while Charlie was preparing Emma for bed, he decided to run the idea by her and gauge her reaction.

"Emma," he said carefully. They were seated on her bed and Charlie was brushing her hair, damp from the bath.

"Yes, Charlie?" The name still sounded odd coming from her five-year-old mouth, but he was learning to live with it.

"Would you like it if we were a real family?" He drew the brush down slowly, mindful of tangles. He knew only too well what it felt like to pull on a knot accidentally. He waited for her response.

"I guess," she replied noncommittally. "Would I have to call you daddy?"

Charlie paused briefly and then resumed brushing. "Not if you don't want to, honey. You know that."

She nodded. "Okay."

Setting the brush down Charlie picked up an elastic band, separated her hair into three parts and began to plait the strands together. "You know that means, don't you?"

"No."

"Well," he said slowly. "It means your name would be different."

She turned quickly and Charlie let go of the braid, watching in mild irritation as the honey gold tresses quickly unravelled. "I wouldn't be Emma anymore?" she asked.

"No, no," Charlie sighed, turning her gently and starting over with her hair. "You'd still be 'Emma', sweetie. You just wouldn't be 'Emma Langhorne' anymore."

"Who would I be, then?"

"'Emma Eppes'," Charlie replied. He fastened the elastic into place and leaned back to examine his handiwork. "There – all done." She turned around to face him. "What d'you think?"

She pulled the braid over her shoulder and looked at it critically. "It looks like it always does."

Charlie laughed. "No, silly. About the _name_." He sobered slightly. "What do you think?" he repeated.

Emma seemed to be mulling it over. "Emma Eppes… Emma Eppes…" she murmured. Finally, she lifted her head. "I can remember that. It's not hard."

He wrapped his arms around her small body and hugged her tightly. "No, sweetie," he agreed. "It wasn't hard at all."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Okay, maybe two more. I was able to come home unexpectedly, but I may - just as unexpectedly - have to leave again. One short chapter 'in case'. Enjoy.

Chapter 10:

So the deed was done. One sunny day in October, Emma Charlotte Langhorne became Emma Charlotte Eppes. The Eppes family – all four of them – celebrated by throwing a backyard barbeque and inviting all of their friends. David Sinclair brought his friend Olivia from the community center, Larry arrived with Megan and Amita, and Colby brought along a surprise for the newest member of the family.

"A puppy!" Emma squealed. "A puppy! May I keep him?" she begged. Charlie smiled. He had already approved the pet when Colby phoned him the day before. "Only if you're going to look after him," he replied. "You have to be a big girl about it."

"I will, I promise!" Emma scooped the dog into her little arms and marched off proudly to show everyone her new best friend. Charlie smiled as she proceeded to shove the puppy into Larry and Megan's faces. Megan was properly enthusiastic, but Larry erupted into a sneezing fit. Apologizing profusely, he excused himself and headed indoors.

The party wore on through the afternoon and into the early evening. Emma had made the rounds with her dog, proclaiming to anyone who would listen that his name was 'Melvin Eppes'. Don had to pound Colby on the back at this announcement – he had choked on his hamburger. The solar garden lights had just begun to shine when Charlie glanced around for his little girl. She wasn't in sight.

He fought down a sense of unease at her disappearance and casually made his way to where he saw her last. She could very well be inside using the washroom, after all. Or feeding the dog. Alan had taken her into the kitchen earlier and shown her the brand-new dog dishes and the bag of dog food in the pantry. No cause to be alarmed – yet.

Charlie made casual inquiries of his friends and family, asking if they knew where Emma went. Olivia confessed she thought she saw the little girl dart into the house a few minutes earlier after the puppy. Charlie thanked her and headed inside as well.

His heart stopped beating.

The front door was ajar, and no sign of the little girl or the dog. Charlie called her loudly, but there was no response. Running to the front door, Charlie saw her heading down the walk, scolding the puppy that was trying to run away as fast as its stubby legs would carry it. "Emma!" he called. "Come back!"

She turned and waved. "I've gotta catch Melvin!" she called back. She turned to the dog. "Melvin, you naughty thing," she said sternly. "You come back here this instant!"

Charlie headed down the walk after her. Within ten paces he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. He knelt down so they were eye to eye. "Emma, sweetie," he began calmly. "You mustn't do that again, okay? You scared me. I couldn't see you anywhere."

Emma nodded, immediately contrite. "I'm sorry," she said, "But Melvin keeps running away!"

"That's because you're chasing him, honey," he explained. "He thinks you're playing a game." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Now Emma, I want you to go stand on the steps while I catch Melvin, okay?" She nodded. "Alright. Way you go." He stood and watched the little figure runto stand obediently at the front of the house. Nodding his approval, Charlie started after the pup. "Come here, Melvin," he said. Whereas Melvin had been sitting on the sidewalk, watching the exchange between Charlie and Emma a moment before, as soon as he perceived the game was on Melvin came to his paws and took off.

"Come back here you little wretch," Charlie muttered, picking up the pace. By now the puppy was at top speed and Charlie knew he'd be able to catch him in a few feet. Suddenly the brown ball of fur darted into the street. Charlie checked both sides quickly and ran out after him. Losing his patience completely he finally yelled, "MELVIN! SIT!" To his surprise, the little dog did just that.

Charlie scooped him up and looked him in the eye. "Smart dog."

The last thing he remembered was hearing his new daughter scream, "_DADDY!_"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Charlie opened his eyes slowly. It took a few moments for them to focus on anything, and he was confused by what he saw.Lights. People. He squeezed them shut against the mosaic of color.

"Blood pressure steady… Let's get these jeans off him…" The voices were muffled, indistinct. "He's coming around… Sir? Can you hear me?" Charlie's head was pounding. Something was covering his face. "What's his name?"

"Charlie – his name's Charlie." _David?_ Charlie wanted to ask where everybody was… where Emma was. _The dog._ He hoped the pup was okay, for Emma's sake. _What happened?_ He opened his eyes slightly once more.

Charlie tried to move his head, but it seemed to be held in place. Suddenly Don was there, looking into his eyes. "Hold on, Charlie – let them help you," he said.

"Don?" He hated how weak his voice sounded. _An oxygen mask_, he thought.

His brother nodded. "It's me, buddy. Just lie still and let them help you, okay?"

"Em… Emma?"

"She's fine. Megan's with her."

"Dog?"

Don sighed in exasperation. "Charlie, the damn dog is great, okay? Forget the dog."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. "Emma… heartbroken," he whispered. He was so tired.

"About the dog?" Don said. "She's more worried about you." Charlie felt a pinprick in his hand and he flinched. Don put a hand on his arm. "It's okay Charlie," he soothed. "They're just starting an IV."

"Sir… you're going to have to move aside so we can work."

Don rubbed Charlie's arm gently. "We'll meet you at the hospital, okay buddy?"

"Emma…" Charlie just remembered something important.

"I'll bring Emma, don't worry." Don stepped back at that point and missed the rest of what his brother was trying to say.

"…called me Daddy."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I have decided to opt out of the next challenge. Someone much more capable than myself has taken it up. This piece was supposed to be finished by now, but it seems to be taking its time wrapping up. One more chapter should do it, I believe.

Chapter 11:

Don never said a word on the way to the hospital. He drove carefully and very, very fast, lights and siren going. He didn't allow himself to be distracted by anything. Not even the little girl's sobs from the backseat. His mind fought him, however, and Don found himself consciously pushing away the thoughts that vied for attention in his brain. Distraction was what sent Charlie to the hospital in the first place. He'd be damned if he'd do it too.

The party had come to an abrupt halt at the sound of Emma's scream. The FBI agents, immediately galvanized into action, had – literally – dropped whatever they'd been doing and ran to the front of the house, hands automatically reaching for holsters. The others weren't far behind. Barrelling out of the front door, Don almost tripped over a small figure huddled on the step.

"What is it, Emma?" he asked quickly. She lifted a shaking finger and pointed, tears streaming down her face. He ran in the direction she indicated, unable yet to see what had her so upset. Maybe the dog, or…

Melvin was fine, sitting on the side of the road with his tongue hanging out. They would marvel for ages that the puppy hadn't been injured or worse.

Don skidded to a halt as he took in the scene being played out in the street. His brother – Emma's official new father – lay on his side in front of a late model sports car. The driver appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties, and he was on his knees next to Charlie, pleading with him.

"Mister? Hey, mister? Please wake up. I'm sorry. I didn't see you. Mister?" The young man looked up at the group of people heading toward him – half of them with guns drawn – and immediately came to his feet. "I… I didn't see him! Honest! I came around the corner and… he was just…" Don holstered his weapon and dropped to his knees beside his brother's still form.

"Did you call an ambulance?" Don asked woodenly as he pulled out his cell phone.

"W-what?" the boy stammered. "No… no, not yet… I just-"He stopped abruptly when Don held up his hand. Flipping open the phone, Don dialled 9-1-1 and told the operator the situation. Only when he disconnected did he lean over Charlie and call his name.

"Charlie? Hey buddy, it's me." Don checked for a pulse, relief almost overwhelming him when he found one immediately. It was erratic but strong. "C'mon, Charlie. Wake up. Wake up, Charlie." He looked up at the people gathering around him. David stood nearby, stunned, with Colby at his side. Alan was kneeling at Charlie's feet, immobile and silent, his eyes locked on Charlie's face.

"Where's Megan?" Don asked no one in particular.

Colby replied. "She took Emma into the house. Poor kid's really shaken up."

"She okay?" Don asked. "She didn't get hurt?"

David shook his head. "She was on the front steps when…" He trailed off. Nodding at the car, he added, "Saw everything, though."

Don looked down at his brother. "Megan will talk to her." He could hear sirens approaching rapidly. Looking up at the young man, he asked, "What happened?"

The guy jumped as if startled. "I was driving down the street…"

"How fast were you going?" Colby interrupted.

"Not fast! I wasn't speeding or anything!" He looked to Don. "You've gotta believe me, mister. I wasn't going fast at all!"

"_How fast were you going?_" Don repeated in a low, threatening tone.

"Ten… m-maybe twelve miles an hour," he stuttered. "I wasn't speeding, mister. Honest." He swallowed. "I only looked away for a second…"

In that instant, three bodies were in motion. Don to get his hands on the young driver, and David and Colby to get their hands on Don. "You looked away?" Don yelled, struggling to break free. "You looked _away_? What the hell were you doing? What were you _thinking_?"

"Easy Don, easy," David murmured. "This isn't going to help Charlie."

Alan called wearily, "Don, stop." Those two words had the desired effect. Don quit straining to get at the young man, instead shrugging off David and Colby's hands and turning back to his brother. Charlie was still unconscious and very pale.

The ambulance pulled up and two paramedics jumped out. The first one hurried to Charlie's side, while the second ran to the back of the unit. Colby ran over and offered his assistance.

Don looked at David, fury smouldering in his eyes. "I want _him_," he pointed at the terrified driver. "Under arrest. _Yesterday_." David nodded, drawing out his handcuffs. If anything, the man looked even more frightened.

"Y-you guys are… cops?" he whispered as David pulled his hands behind his back and fastened them together.

"No," David replied, steering him over to his personal vehicle. "You hit the jackpot here, man. We're FBI."

All the color drained from the young man's face. He looked up at David as he was eased into the backseat. "Feds?" he mouthed. David nodded once before shutting the door. Heading back to the scene, he watched as Don pulled his father to his feet and spoke to him privately. Alan nodded and made his way back to the house.

"What's his name?" One of the paramedics looked up at David.

"Charlie," he replied, motioning to his friend. "His name's Charlie."

Don hurried to his brother's side. The emergency crew had strapped Charlie to a spinal board. A cervical collar and head immobilizer ensured no movement would occur, possibly doing more damage. The lower half of his face was obscured by an oxygen mask.

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at his brother. He was struggling slightly, and Don tried to reassure him. "Hold on, Charlie… let them help you." The mathematician stilled immediately and one of the medics began cutting away his clothing. Charlie's exposed legs were torn and bloody – and obviously broken.

"Don?"

Don nodded reassuringly. "It's me, buddy," he soothed. "Just lie still and let them help you, okay?" He leaned closer as Charlie spoke again faintly. "Em-Emma?"

"She's fine," Don replied. "Megan's with her."

"Dog?"

Don couldn't help the note of irritation that crept into his voice. "Charlie, the damn dog is great, okay? Forget the dog." He strained to hear his brother's next words. "Emma… heartbroken." Don knew what he was talking about. "About the dog?" He could have gleefully given away that pup at the moment, but he knew it wouldn't solve a damn thing. "She's more worried about you." He watched as the medics started an IV and spoke in soothing tones when Charlie reacted. He moved when they asked him to, although not too far – he wanted to touch his brother, to let him know he was still there. He contented himself with merely rubbing Charlie's arm gently.

When they were ready to go, Don said, "We'll meet you at the hospital, okay buddy?"

"Emma…"

Don stepped back as the gurney began to move. "I'll bring Emma, don't worry," he replied. They loaded him into the ambulance and slammed the doors. Don turned quickly and headed back to the house, barely registering the fact that David had left with the driver of the car. Once inside, he rounded up his father and niece, steering them to his SUV for the trip to the hospital. Megan and Larry volunteered to stay behind and tidy up. Don knew Megan wanted to be there for Larry. He and Charlie went back a long way.

Once they arrived, Don guided Alan and Emma to a waiting area and went in search of his brother alone. He tried inquiring at the duty station, but the people there were either too busy to answer his question or they insisted he wait in line. He searched his memory for the day he himself was brought in and headed off down the most likely passageway.

Don quickly found one exam room bustling with activity. The curtains were still open and he could see the people gathered there working smoothly and efficiently to divest the person lying on the bed of his clothing. He watched numbly as a shirt drifted to the floor.

Charlie's shirt.

Don edged his way into the room, careful not to get in the way. He stood silently and watched as doctors and nurses moved back and forth, calling to one another in a language he barely understood.

"BP ninety-eight over sixty-five and falling."

"Pulse one-forty."

"Going into shock, here, people. Hang two litres."

"I want a workup done as soon as possible. We need to get this guy to the OR."

"Someone call radiology and get them set up for a scan and x-rays. Possible head trauma, definite on the broken legs. Oh, and call the OR…"

The voices faded out as Don caught a glimpse of Charlie through the forest of moving personnel. His eyes were closed, but he didn't look like he was unconscious. If he had to guess, Don would've said his brother was… listening.

"I'm right here, buddy," Don said suddenly. Charlie's features seemed to relax. One of the green-clad nurses turned on him. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded.

"He's my brother," Don replied, daring the woman to order him to leave. She apparently thought better of it and turned back to Charlie. Don watched as they prepared to move him, laying the IV bags and various pieces of equipment on the gurney. The nurse glanced at him, clearly expecting some kind of outburst. Don merely fixed her with a dark stare.

"Okay, people. He's not going to get any more stable than this. Let's move!"

Don waited until the stretcher was almost parallel before calling, "We're all here, Charlie. We'll be waiting for you when you wake up." He didn't expect a response and was surprised to hear his brother murmur, "See you…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Don rejoined his father and Emma in the waiting room. He told Alan everything he'd heard in the ER, including the decision to operate. "Probably going to put pins in his legs," he said finally.

Alan shook his head. "That bad?"

Don nodded. "They looked that way to me, Dad."

"My God," Alan sighed. "Why today, of all days?"

"I'm sorry."

They both turned to look at the little girl sitting on a chair a few feet away. Emma had curled up into herself, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms clasped tightly around them. There were still tears on her face, but she had stopped crying long ago. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a whisper.

Don quickly moved to the chair next to hers and wrapped his arms around her small shoulders. "Emma," he said seriously. "This isn't your fault. Do you understand? You didn't do this."

Her voice hitched as she replied, "I was chasing him."

"Who, Emma?" Alan asked as he moved to sit on her other side.

"Melvin." She wiped at the tears filling her eyes again. "He said Melvin kept running away because I was chasing him."

"Who said that?" Don asked. "Charlie?"

Emma nodded. "He said Melvin thought I was playing with him." She lifted her eyes to Don's face. "He said that's why he wouldn't stop running."

"No, Emma," Don soothed. "This isn't your fault at all. It's not your fault…"

"…Or Melvin's," Alan added. Emma turned quickly and looked at him. "Melvin is only a puppy, Emma. You can't be mad at him, either."

Don said, "It's not Charlie's fault, either. He couldn't have known there was a car coming. He should've looked first, but…"

"He did!" Emma protested. "I saw him! He looked this way…" She turned her head to one side and then the other. "…And this way. I saw!"

"You saw?" Don frowned. "Emma – was the car going fast?"

She thought hard for a second. "No," she replied thoughtfully. "Nobody was in it."

"What?" Alan looked at Don, then Emma. "What d'you mean, no one was in it?"

"Honest, Grampa Alan," she replied quickly. "The man wasn't there 'til after."

Don turned her gently. "Explain it to me, Emma," he said. "What did you see?" The little girl shook her head mutely and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. "Emma, this is important. What did you see?"

"He went out in the street to get Melvin." Emma's voice was soft. "He picked him up and… And the car came around the corner…" She shook her head. "I don't want to."

Alan gathered her into his arms. "Sweetheart, we need to know what you saw. And you need to talk about it." He looked at Don. "Even if you're not ready, you need to tell someone what's bothering you."

Don knew the last part of his father's speech wasn't directed at his granddaughter, but at Don himself. He didn't want to hear it right now. "Emma, honey," he urged, "Tell me about the car – did the man get into it after?"

She shook her head. "He came up."

Don looked at her quizzically. "'He came up'?" he asked. "What do you mean, 'he came up'?"

Emma sighed. "Like this." She leaned over Alan's lap, and then suddenly straightened upright. "He came up."

Don felt sick. "You mean he was leaning down, and then he sat up?"

"Yes," Emma replied. "After."

"After what, sweetie?" Alan asked. Instead of replying, she climbed into Don's lap and slid her arms under his jacket, wrapping them tightly around his body. Don rubbed her back for a moment before tilting her chin up with one finger. "Do you mean 'after the car hit Charlie', Emma?" he asked softly.

She nodded and burrowed her head in his chest. Don looked at Alan.

"I'll go see what I can find out," Alan said, rising. "And I'll see if I can find something to drink, too." He left the room.

Don sat rocking the little girl and rubbing her back, content to stay silent. He was glad his father hadn't pushed with his statement, although he knew the subject would come up again. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed Emma's quiet whisper.

"Is he gonna die?"

Don stopped rubbing. "What?"

She lifted her head slightly. "Is he gonna die?" she repeated.

"No, no," Don said, rubbing again. "No, honey. He's not going to die. He's pretty banged up," he explained. "And he'll probably need to stay here for a while, but he's not going to die."

"Okay," she replied. Don felt her relax a bit. "I'm glad he's not gonna die."

"Me too." Don shifted into a more comfortable position. "I didn't want to lose him," he added quietly.

Emma snuggled closer. "I don't want to call him Charlie anymore," she said sleepily, then yawned.

"No?" Don craned his neck so he could look at her face. "What do you want to call him?"

"Daddy," she murmured.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I know this chapter will receive negative reviews due to length. I had a longer version created, but when I read it myself, I decided a lot of what I had put down was unnecessary. I believe this chapter polishes off the story more than adequately. I realize many will disagree, but this is all of it- the longer version has been deleted. I apologise. There is another story in the works, for those who are interested in knowing. Enjoy.

Chapter 12:

It took three hours and a lot of coffee, but they were finally guided to Charlie's bedside. The doctor informed them he'd received four broken ribs and a concussion in conjunction with two severely broken legs. Charlie would heal, but it would take a long time.

"Charlie?"

"Hey Dad," the young mathematician murmured. He looked at the small group gathered around his bed and smiled slowly. "The gang's all here, huh?"

"Yeah, son," Alan replied. "We're all here." He looked down at the matching plaster casts. "Did they have to put pins in?" he asked.

Charlie moved his head negatively. "Just broken. Not… smashed." He briefly closed his eyes. "Car was too slow," he added.

"Good thing," Don said with a smile. "Otherwise we'd have to wait on you for even longer." Charlie chuckled, a sound that rapidly turned into a suppressed cough while he held tightly to his ribcage.

"Easy there," admonished Alan, casting Don a reproving look.

Charlie opened his eyes. "Hurts… to laugh," he gasped.

"Sorry, bro," Don said, immediately contrite. "Won't do it again."

Charlie'sarms relaxed and his head settled deeper into the pillow. "At least – not for a while." He tried to look over the edge of the bed. "Emma?" he asked.

"I'm here." A little head peeked over the bedclothes. "I'm here, too." Don reached down and lifted herso she couldsee. Settling onto her uncle's hip, she looked Charlie over critically. "You're okay now?" she asked.

"Not quite, honey," Charlie replied. "But I'll get better."

Alan cleared his throat. When Charlie looked at him, he said, "We had quite a job convincing someone that this wasn't their fault." Charlie looked at Emma, who had burrowed her head in Don's chest again. Charlie lifted his arms. "Bring her," he said.

"Charlie," Alan cautioned. Don, too, looked skeptical. Charlie shook his head slowly – he still felt a little dizzy. "I don't care," he replied. "Bring her to me."

Don moved to the bed and eased the girl down beside his brother, careful not to jostle him. "Be gentle, sweetie," he advised. "Don't bump him." She nodded and slowly crept up to lay her head on Charlie's shoulder, curled up on her side. Charlie wrapped his arm around her little body and looked up at his father and brother.

"Uh, Dad," Don began, catching on. "Why don't you and I step outside for a minute?"

Alan looked at his eldest son blankly for a second. "What? Oh!" He glanced at Charlie, who was planting a kiss on the top of Emma's head. "Yes, let's do that," he replied.

Once the door was firmly shut behind them, Charlie spoke. "You didn't do this, sweetheart." Emma lifted her head and looked at him. "Do you believe me?"

"I was chasing Melvin," she whispered.

"No," Charlie replied, shaking his head.

"I wasn't?"

He smiled. "Don't you remember? You were standing on the step."

Emma protested, "But I was before!" She squirmed slightly and Charlie hissed in pain, tightening his arm around her. "Hold still," he said from between clenched teeth. She froze. When he'd caught his breath, Charlie continued. "You were before, yes. But when that car showed up, you weren't anywhere near there – I was."

She nodded ever so slightly. "You were in the street," she agreed.

"And what does that tell you?"

Emma frowned in concentration. "Not to stand in the street?"

"That's right," Charlie smiled. "So if you stay out of the street, instead of doing something dumb like I did, you'll be fine."

"But you're not dumb!" Emma said. "You're smart – Uncle Don said so."

Charlie's smile faded. "Even your uncle would have to admit standing in the street talking to a dog isn't smart." He sighed. "If anyone's to blame for this, it's me, Emma. Not you."

Several minutes of silence passed while she considered this. Finally she asked, "How long are you gonna stay in here?"

"As long as I have to," Charlie replied, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "Not one minute more."

Emma whispered, "I thought you were gonna go to heaven, like Mummy."

"Nope," Charlie replied. "You're stuck with me now."

"Uncle Don told me you weren't …" She trailed off. Lifting her head, Emma looked him in the eye and added, "I didn't get to tell you. I thought you were gonna… die… before I said."

Charlie gazed at her in sympathy. "Oh Emma," he said sadly. "I'm sorry you were worried, sweetie. I don't want you to worry." He hugged her carefully. "I'm very sorry. What did you want to tell me?"

"I don't want to call you Charlie anymore." She laid her head back onto his shoulder. "You're my daddy now."

Charlie nodded. "I thought so. I heard you." He smoothed her hair with his free hand. "You know what? Once upon a time, I didn't _want_ to be a daddy." Charlie kissed her head again. "But now – I can't imagine being anything else."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Charlie said, glancing at the two men standing in the doorway. "That we're really a family now."


End file.
